


Lost and Found.

by QuintessentialQuill



Series: Tempered Grace [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Complicated Relationships, Dealing With Trauma, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Difficult Decisions, Fluff, Gen, Guilt, Human Experimentation, Human Trafficking, Reconciliation, Recovery, Rescue, Revenge, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:33:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 38,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24180625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuintessentialQuill/pseuds/QuintessentialQuill
Summary: New beginnings and old stories, weave through these set of chapters, that lead to self-discoveries.The motley crew of Ezekiel's victims, find a brave soul who has willingly and unwillingly suffered for the greater good. The agents find themselves - the good and bad, as they do their best to help thisvictim, survivor- person to recover and heal, while tracking down the bad guys.
Series: Tempered Grace [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1743088
Kudos: 4





	1. What do you want?

A constant rattle tinkled against the oppressive silence that sat between the two men snugly and stubbornly, like the solid-iron table. Neither of them were really bothered enough by it to break it.  
Jared was cuffed to one of those minimalistic designer chairs and he could not stop his hands from shaking, despite his best efforts.   
He wanted to be alone and yet; the presence of the other man was the only thing that kept him anchored. Simply existing, felt surreal. He did not bother to actively deny what happened, but he did not accept it either.   
  
The glass-walled cabin that this man called his office, was too roomy for the sparse furniture it held, and yet, it somehow felt too small for the man who sat across the Red Knight; Cepheus Cygnus, the commander general of Quantum Brigade.  
His good eye peered at Jared’s bloodshot ones. He had been sitting with his face cradled in his massive hands, elbows propped against the intentionally unpolished surface of the table.   
In time, he hummed and that morphed into a groan as he stretched backwards. The chair that he was on creaked under his muscled weight and something else cracked too… He did. He sighed softly with relief after putting his feet up on the table.   
Jared’s eyebrows rose by a fraction.   
  
The burly man twirled his finger into the cropped length of his thick white beard in contemplation and smiled apologetically but did not take his feet down.   
His mere dwarfing presence would be enough to intimidate most men. But not Jared, not today.   
They sat illuminated only by the diffuse ambient light from outside the large glass windows… or were they walls? There was a certain obsession with _transparency._ And with darkness.   
The entire floor was empty and not a single light source was put on. _  
_“You smoke, right?”  
Jared narrowed his eyes at the question.   
“Yes, you do... I remember… Ugly habit…”   
Jared felt like he was ready to kick the habit after so many things that felt wrong, featured cigarettes.  
Cepheus mused. He thumbed some sensor under the table.   
  
Jared’s cuffs fell open. He rubbed his wrists.   
In the same motion, the commander fluidly flicked open a box of cigars and held them out towards his guest. His movements had a grace one would not expect upon seeing him.   
Cepheus grinned and winked.   
“Humour an old man, will you, son?”  
He paused and darkly added.   
“What do you have to lose?”   
Jared just watched him, emptily and quietly, for a long moment. Finally, he relented and reached for a cigar. He still did not utter any words.   
The commander picked one for himself and offered a light.   
The flame was a hot blue and did not flicker, it sprang up from the device like a scorching pillar, as sure and as strong as the man who held the lighter.   
The men puffed.   
Cepheus blew a smoke ring.   
“Excellent. Let me fix us a drink and then we can talk like real men.”   
He was old alright.  
Jared rarely consumed alcohol. But he did not refuse the offer.   
Today felt like as good a day as any to drown in it… In whiskey, neat.  
His hand was steadier as he accepted the glass and set it on the table. He tilted his chin at the commander in silent acknowledgement and gratitude. Then stared at the amber liquid.   
“Cheers!”  
Cepheus prompted.   
Jared lifted his glass and let it clink with the commander’s and bitterly asked,  
“What for?”   
When he opened his mouth, he realised that his jaw and cheekbone hurt, from the kick.   
_That fucking-  
_ He cut his own fruitless thoughts—slew of swear words—off. He was at Q.B.’s mercy. So, he was at Ezekiel’s mercy.   
“To being alive—wait, I’ll get you some ice or something for that.”  
Jared snorted derisively and took a deep swig from his glass, then took an equally long drag from the cigar.   
  
Cepheus watched him over his shoulder as he rummaged in the cooler. He almost warned the younger man to take it easy but didn’t.  
Jared now leaned back in his chair and slouched a little. He let his head hang backwards, till it hurt his neck. He blew his own smoke ring up at the ceiling and then a smaller one through it.  
“I’m fine… and I’d rather not be…”   
Cepheus made an unidentified disgruntled sound as he insistently shoved an ice-pack against Jared.   
“You’d rather not be fine or alive? And why would you say such a thing?”   
“Both and why wouldn’t I? I’ve been alive, and I’ve hardly lived…”   
Jared grudgingly held the ice-pack against his face. His teeth chattered as his shoulder was slapped by a beefy hand. It shook him more than it should have.   
“But you have so many years ahead of you. Surely your past could not have been that bad.”   
“The Supremacy stole my childhood, SpecSyn stole my adolescence… Nikolai stole my youth and just when I finally found-”  
His words tore out from the graveyard of his mind and then got caught in his throat and he took another long swig.  
  
“So, it is all something or someone else’s fault eh?”   
The commander reached over the table and intrusively poked Jared in the chest, hard.  
“What were _you_ doing through all this, hmm?”   
“I- I… I was doing my duty?”   
Jared replied coolly, placing his hand over the back of Cepheus’, and pushing it away with more care than he should have shown. Something about the man inherently commanded respect.   
“No! The duty was doing you.”   
Jared took another swig and another draw of smoke.   
Cepheus watched him and urged introspection casually,   
“What do _you_ want? What does Jared Knight _want?_ ”   
Jared downed his glass. He sat up straighter and shook his head, that made things worse. It felt like something was buzzing within his thoughts. His tongue felt slightly swollen and numb and a warmth coursed down his throat and settled in his depth of his core… somewhere. He did not know he was swaying. He closed his eyes and muttered,   
“Generally? Now?”  
  
Cepheus needled.  
“Let’s start with now. What is it, right now, more than anything?”   
“Ezekiel. I want my fist in his smug face… and- and…”  
Jared answered suddenly and faltered; he was interrupted.   
“And what if I give you that? What will you give me?”   
Cepheus refilled Jared’s glass.  
But the Red Knight got up with such vigour, the heavy chair fell to the floor with a resounding clang.   
Cepheus was curious to see where this was going to lead. He remained seated and waited to see what Jared was willing to trade for a brawl with Eze, assuming it was the offer that kicked him into action.   
_Everyone has a price._  
“See, that’s the problem with _you_. With _all_ of you! People are not yours to just give and take. They’re people.”  
Cepheus chuckled.   
_That was a good and unexpected answer… Maybe this could work._  
He waved at Jared dismissively, beckoning him to sit again.   
“Sit, sit. You are right. By you _all_ , you mean people like me and my twin Celaeno? Scarlett and Mark, hmm?”   
His voice sounded like the rumble of a lion’s snore.   
  
Jared picked up his chair, it certainly was heavier than he had thought. His arms felt like lead, but he managed to lift it off the floor and sat himself down again. He ran his fingers through his hair and confirmed with a resounding voice.   
“Yes.”   
The commander general was not even vaguely hurt by the admitted accusation.   
“People do become a commodity of war, but you’re right. They should not be. You have my apologies, Knight.”   
Jared sighed heavily.   
“What for? There are too many things!”   
Jared exclaimed and he went on whinging.   
“The air-strike on the cells, the control issues between Q.B. and SpecSyn, my agents, _my Sh-_ ”  
“The air-strike was a bad call and it was miscommunication. And c’mon, you know that control is a sensitive issue... Peace a two-way street.”   
The older man answered evenly and spoke over Jared sombrely.   
  
Cepheus quickly broke the silence before it settled.   
“You trained the Ricci and Shroff, correct? Among others?”   
Jared answered into his glass.  
“Yes.”   
He swallowed the sorrow that rose in him again along with a hearty gulp of the whiskey. The only reason he could manage was because he did not immediately attribute Shroff to Akira… as _his_ _Shira._  
“Solid. Strong girls.”  
 _Too strong and too stubborn._  
Cepheus thought, between his uttered praise. He then contemplated something again. The man settled into his own chair and puffed at his cigar, he kept it wedged between his molars as he spoke.   
“Before and after it was decided that they’re to be sent here?”   
Jared frowned; in the recesses of his mind he recognized the leading quality of the questions.   
“Yes. But only Akira was-”  
His voice broke again. Another swallow of the whiskey. Something inside him felt like it was on fire. Cepheus was kind about filling the broken gaps Jared left in the conversation.   
“Why did Ricci join us then?”   
The question was asked with a vague but calculated disinterest.   
“Shi-Akira went off the grid…”   
Cepheus leaned in closer.   
“I see… That level of insub-”  
He cleared his throat.   
Jared swayed some more, his head felt heavy.  
“-Commitment from Ricci is impressive. All off the books, then?”  
“Yes.”   
“How did you even realise Shroff was off the grid?”   
Jared’s grip tightened on the glass in his hand and his eyes widened.   
_Oh no, no! I see what is happening here. I am not telling him about the Entanglement Formula.  
_ The clarity made him still.   
_  
_Jared switched gears swiftly too, it felt selfish to tap into the emotion that brought him so much grief, one he had been trying to bury. But it felt like the smoothest choice.  
“How could I not know… I love her. I… I just knew.”   
“But it wasn’t you who came after her, it was Nova, so did you send her then?”   
Cepheus did not wait for a response and chuckled again. He was an easily amused man. He took a measured swig and continued speaking,  
“I’m busted, eh? Good catch and nice try, son.”  
“Likewise.”  
Jared responded dryly.  
“Better than dangling you from ceilings and pulling your nails out eh?”  
Cepheus took a bigger gulp this time.   
“You could do that too, won’t make me any likelier to spill.”   
Jared followed suit. On some level, his loyalty, or at least ability to keep things to himself, despite everything, left him feeling a tad better. He wasn’t sure what Cepheus had laced his beverage and cigar with, but so far it did nothing more than to slow his comprehension ever so slightly. And it left him feeling light in body and heavy in the mind. A weightless sorrow.   
  
They curtly nodded in acknowledgement and wordlessly toasted to their shared experience in the field, to fortunate and unfortunate times.   
“Is SpecSyn losing its grip on its agents? Shroff and Ricci are good girls, but that is grave insubordination, isn’t it?”   
The commander asked frankly and with a slight air of competitive haughtiness.   
“You have an Ezekiel as your second-in-command, you certainly cannot judge SpecSyn.”   
The commander pursed his lips and frowned.   
“There are forces at play… Besides, we are handling him!”  
“Yeah? How? He is a fuckin’ murderer.”   
Jared spat; anger nested in his accusatory words now, it burned, with the alcohol, in his depths and spilled in an unexpected manner.   
“I… I loved her… I…”   
There was sincerity in his words now. He finally put his head in his hands and let the tears flow.   
Cepheus’ own eyes moistened, both watered, but only one of them rested on the shaking body of the broken young man.   
He dabbed at it with a kerchief. Almost nobody carried those anymore.   
“We’re all murderers and this is touching, son… But who are you talking about? Shroff again? Or is there another?”  
The white-haired man was employing the _kids-these-days_ tone.  
  
“No, no other. I mean, yes there was-were… before. But no. Yes... Yes. Shroff. Akira… Shira”   
Acceptance was starting to descend upon Jared densely. It wriggled between his words and sobs and committed crimes against his usual logic and gathered sense.   
Cepheus raised a single eyebrow and sniffled softly; the man across him sounded like an absolute mess. A heavy hand found Jared’s shoulder.   
“Oh, why are you talking about Shroff like she’s in the past… like she’s dead?”   
Cepheus finally asked the question that had felt viable before, but not as intensely as it did now.   
The glass shattered in Jared’s hand. The drink spilled on his Supremacy-like suit. He could not care less about it, one way or another.   
“Because… Wait… Is she not? SHE’S NOT?”   
The commander was unfazed by the broken glass and his redundant questions. He reassured calmly.  
“Dead you mean? No! She’s fine.”   
“But I heard… I _saw_ the bullet…”   
Jared remained a little hassled. He cut his palm on the glass and did not notice that either, or the bloodstains.   
  
“Ah… and then you passed out immediately after.”  
The commander understood the chronology of events and laughed, but in a good-natured way.   
“You missed my brilliance. I was already in the audience and threw the Projectile Deflector v2.6. Patented Q.B. So, no one was hurt. Good day… Good day.”   
He spoke of it like a victory to celebrate. He shamelessly accentuated _his_ role; he had won a piece of glory. The commander went on.   
“Gave me cause to court martial Ezekiel for insubordination. He has always been a bit of a loose cannon.”  
Jared’s eyes darkened as things fell into place. Cepheus barely noticed and went on.   
“I can’t really make up for the damage he’s caused… But that is why I offered him to you. Good faith and all. Call it what you will, it’s the Q.B. way.”  
  
Jared cracked his knuckles with a certain bloodlust he didn’t know he had. But before he could say anything, the commander reminded him that this was still a _deal._   
“So, the questions still stands, what do you want and what will I get?”   
Ceph kicked back and rested his head against interlaced fingers. His own glass was now empty, his cigar reduced to a stub.   
“I’m not giving you any information.”   
Jared responded hotly.  
“Oh, I’m not about to make you get Scarlett’s knickers in a twist for information. Besides, I know you will not give that up. No, I’m looking for a conversation, a negotiation... a window for collaboration, Knight.”   
Jared tilted his head cockily and mutely urged for specifics.  
“I need Ezekiel replaced.”   
Commander Cygnus now stated, in an acutely sober tone.   
“But if you take me up on this offer, you best be mixing your own drinks and carrying your own cigars when on the job.”  
Ceph added, jovially.


	2. Apologies.

She was alive.   
It took him a moment to reconcile with that knowledge. He flicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, as if to check if all his parts were still in place. They were.   
He did not need to give the commander general an answer immediately, because as he came to terms with reality, his interest in the gift of having Eze at his mercy, waned.   
She was alive.   
_Fuck Ezekiel._  
“Where is she?”   
Cepheus looked at him evenly. It was obvious that Jared needed to see her. A part of him did not trust words and there was precedent for why not. Tabling the discussions about the position the commander offered, seemed prudent. 

“You’re free to go find her, I’m sure she’s being tended to. We will resume discussions again?”   
Jared did not respond. He had been effectively dismissed.   
If Cepheus had a problem, he could put a damn bullet in his offer and in Jared.   
Cepheus did not pull any triggers and let Jared go.   
After floundering to the hospital wing and being redirected, he finally burst into Akira’s room with an exasperation. 

She was not in the room; he noticed the bathroom door was ajar.   
A fully clothed Tariq and a lab-coat wrapped Akira sat huddled under the steady stream of the shower.   
The men locked eyes.   
“Get out.”   
Tariq did not argue. He drew himself off the floor and dragged himself out. The bathroom did not accommodate the wide berth he wanted to give Jared. Akira was staring at the drain like she did not comprehend the arrival of Jared, or the departure of Tariq.   
Not until uniform was replaced by suit and a sharp whiff of whiskey and cigars. Which was unfamiliar. Not until hands that lilted of her natural skin-tone were replaced by those that contrasted it starkly... But were familiar. Painfully so. She flinched a little and that made him recoil. He did not force the embrace he yearned to offer and sat by her with folded arms.   
“Sorry…”   
She whispered. It felt strange to apologize.   
He did not want her to. 

He made a non-committal, reassuring sound that betrayed some hurt. But he knew what the bargain was when he had used the serum. She held out her hand. It trembled sporadically.   
“Can’t stop it… from shaking.”   
She finally turned to look at him. The Red Knight… Her Red Knight?   
He had been watching her face with a similar lingering question. Shira?   
He held out his own shaky hand, and her eyes widened.   
“Neither can I.”   
She slowly let her fingers crawl onto his, then through the spaces in between and close around his palm. They found a still, steadiness together.   
“But you always-”  
“Not today and not always, either…”   
Their arms entwined, and he scooted a little closer.   
She stifled the urge to wince this time but tensed a little.   
It is ok, he is not going to hurt you…   
“I’m sorry…”   
She apologized again.   
~~~  
She tipped water into his mouth from a bottle slowly. She did not have too much of it left. And she managed to drop some.   
“Oh fuck, oh hell… I’m so sorry”   
Somehow, despite the anxiety, she sounded chirpy. Akira hoped. This body was not a body. It was a person. He was alive. He was still alive, and she had found him!

His head was on something soft. His head had not been on something soft for a while.  
He said something that she could not hear. She could only see his lips move and a raspy voice follow.   
Presumably, he was hoping for more water. The last few drops fell on his sandpapery tongue. He closed his eyes. She patted his cheek with an incessant urgency.   
“No no… stay with me, we’re going to get help”   
His fingernails were cracked and bled. Knuckles and palms wore torn calluses.   
He had pulled himself out of the rubble and now lay on the mound of small rocks that she sat on, with his head on her lap.   
“No mortal wounds. Extreme dehydration, generalised weakness.”  
She announced her assessment to the CommCube. 

And her gaze lingered on dust smeared face nestled on her calves. She considered pulling him higher up for comfort. Something about the face was familiar. She tried flattening the sanded strands of her unruly hair away from her forehead with the back of her wrist. His eyes stopped opening in response to her verbal prompts. She clicked and clapped and got nothing.   
“Damn it… No. No. No.”   
She hissed and winced as she pinched his arm… Hard, in desperation.   
It took him a while to even twitch.   
But he did.   
She confirmed a visual.   
There was suddenly a great bustle to reach Akira and the man she cradled.   
~~~  
He had cornered himself in the dark room, playing wallflower.   
Laughter rang, lilting of a joy that felt foreign. He had not heard much of that, not with the abandon and purity of her trill.  
She only saw the thicket of curls approach with that sound.  
A shoulder nudged his hand.   
“Sorry…”  
His tone was slightly off handed; it had been her fault. She had backed into him. There was no room to offer her, his back was already up against the wall. But it was still his drink spilled across the back of her dress. Just a virgin cocktail, casually destroying the cocktail dress. The laughter died; an angry, slightly drunken hiss followed. 

“Damn it! What the fu-”  
Akira whipped around and saw his face.   
Saviour’s eyes locked with the saved.   
Her urge to swear died somewhere in her throat.   
Jared could not quite place her. But she looked so familiar, like something from a dream. She smiled and made large waving motions.   
“No… no, I’m sorry… You- You didn’t really have… space”  
She looked beyond him at the wall. Someone behind her giggled. Because he was here? Because of the way she was behaving? She could not tell.   
“Can I have an autograph?”   
A sing-song voice followed from somewhere behind her again. Akira wanted to hide her face somewhere and she wanted to kill Seto – The owner of said voice.   
“Er…”   
Jared was a little lost.   
Aki came to his rescue… (again.)   
“NO. No you can’t Seto.”   
Seto’s protests were an unbecoming mumble.   
“But you said that you were the one who found him, surely he could spare a mom-”  
“SETO.”   
Akira glared. Seto raised his hands and pleasantly remarked,   
“Fine. Fine… T’was a pleasure to meet you Mr. Knight, thanks for keeping the streets safe for us. Didn’t think you’d actually be here...”

Akira and her friends were celebrating their first week as BioHacker trainees in T.S.B.T.F (The Supremacy’s BioHacker Training Facility) by sneaking into this event.   
Jared responded this time.   
“Likewise. Seto is it? Do me a favour and keep that to yourself, will you?”  
The likewise was meant both as a response to the boy’s greeting and to the comment about his presence. Jared had not planned on making a presence. But Scarlett’s entreating won.  
“You can’t disappoint Nikolai he already may be suspicious; he wants you at the party! You make a damn appearance!”  
The things he had to do in the line of duty.   
The event was a grand party hosted to honour the PeaceKeepers and Combative Agents who had recently taken down a drug cartel in the Mainland. To celebrate Jared and his team.   
Jared’s attention kept flickering back to Akira while he spoke to the others, through Seto.   
His tone was serious enough for them to know he meant what he said. 

No one was going to trifle with Jared Knight after all. Seto made a gesture of zipping his lips, he chuckled, And added,   
“Coming, Aki?”  
Her gaze darted between her friends and the man she had found in the rubble.   
Not too many people knew it had been her. Not that it really made a difference. All she did was find a body in the wreckage, that was not dead. It just happened to be his.   
“Just a second…”  
She was looking at him, her gaze asked a question – _Can… we talk?_   
He nodded, he wanted a moment too. So they stole one, against their better nature.   
“Riiiight.”   
Seto sang again, Novara smacked him in the arm.  
The singular, stretched word dripped with the teasing note that Akira decidedly would make her friend pay for later. But she was grateful that Novara helped and the two of them whisked away the group.   
As was Jared. 

“Spilling my drink on you is certainly not the right way to thank you for saving my life.”   
He spoke with a dry gratitude. Like a part of him wished he had not been found at all.   
She had not expected him to break the silence, given his reserved nature.   
“No, it isn’t. Lucky for you, I am not the one who saved your life. The medics that worked on you did. I did watch for a bit though, but hydrating patients didn’t hold my interest…”   
She half-joked and then reached for the straps of her dress to peel the fabric away from her back and try create a pocket of air between it and her skin, so it may dry out and stop feeling sticky.   
She grimaced.   
“But you did find me?”  
She continued to contort in a manner that felt comfortable, while wanting to sate her curiosity about the man. The two did not work well together.   
“Yes… I did. Though it looks like this is the end of the night for me… Not your fault, but I just can’t stand the stickiness.”   
She looked at her friends on the dance floor. They were certainly not ready to leave.   
She sighed.   
He noticed.   
“I was done for the night, two glasses of OJ ago. Clearly, the third was just waiting to spill. Need a ride?” 

~~~

“Please Shira… Don’t apologize…”   
He knew why she was flinching, and he knew that she could see it hurt him. But he really did not want her to apologize for it. Because he wanted to, and he did not. Why? Because, if they started apologizing, that is all they could ever say to one another… and it would not be enough.   
“You were right though… about everything. Look where I got us…”  
Her lower lip quaked as it spewed the words hatefully, she was still mad at herself.  
The water had soaked through his suit now. Her lab coat and leggings were already drenched when he got to her. 

He still did not know everything. He did not know exactly what compelled Akira to go off mission and he did not know everything that happened to her here at Q.B. What he did know, was that her intentions had not changed. And that her intentions had never been pro-SpecSyn, or pro-Q.B. They just were, in pursuit of some greater moral good. But they were still good and misguided as her actions seemed, that did matter. Mistakes or not, she did still mean well. Her actions were not malicious.   
And yet, like him, she was toiling with the burden of choices and consequences.   
He still wished she had not put herself through this.   
She finally let him huddle closer. It was his head that hid in her neck.   
He spoke into her jaw, just under her ear.   
“You think I’ve never… made a bad call? Done something off the books? Just… Fucked up?”   
“This bad?”   
“Worse. Much worse.”   
Something made her believe him. And the promise of ‘worse’ chilled her.   
He knew she would want to know more.   
She did, but not like this and not today.   
For now, she tugged at the coat of his suit, while getting rid of the one on her.   
The embroidery on the breast pocket read, ‘Ricci’   
Akira coat still lay in a pile somewhere, probably on a stage that had seen more drama than it bargained for. 

She did not ask him for the details about what this worse meant, but she did ask him something.   
“Where… were you? Where did they take you?”   
She drew a sharp breath and wrinkled her nose.  
She had no way to recognize the dissolving reek that the Commander’s workplace left on him and could only tussle with its strangeness – and that it vaguely reminded her of her father, unpleasantly.  
Thank heavens we’re about to take a shower.   
She thought, distractedly.   
“Cepheus Cygnus’ office.”   
He spoke as casually as he shrugged off his coat.   
“So… when is the public execution then?”  
She could talk of death in public so casually again? He could not be sure if that was a good sign or not.   
“We’re safe for now, I think?” 

What would the consequences of denying his offer be? Should I have negotiated the terms after all?  
His eyebrows furrowed as he considered the position of Second-In-Command.   
Mulling over it right now, felt insensitive.   
“Can we make it hotter?”   
He watched her struggle with the sopping leggings, absently.  
“Hmm…?”   
“The water, can we make it hotter?”   
She asked again, patiently.   
“Won’t that hurt?”  
She had his rapt attention again.   
“Yes.”   
He did not argue.   
And she was grateful for that, and the scalding stream. 


	3. Eyeronies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains some gory references that do lead up to some eyegore and fingore. Read at your own discretion.

The carpet under her feet was so soft and still felt like a sheet of coals. This study… _His_ study was a place of nightmares. She tiptoed in front of the bookshelf, fiddling with the book that held the slot for some sort of a key-card. Nova knew Zizi could not hear her and yet, illogically she spoke in reassurances.  
“I’ll get you out. I will! You’ll be fine, I promise.”  
Nova was trying to latch onto her own dwindling sense of hope. The weight of one life lost had already been too heavy to bear.   
“... Can’t go to Aki or Jared right now…”

Nova had exhausted herself trying to access the room. It now presented as a dangerous conundrum.  
She paced and then curled up by the bookcase that stood propped against the heavy door to the hidden chamber. Despite its perturbed nature, slumber held Nova in its grips for the whole following day. She woke with a start. The room looked exactly like it had, but she could tell precious time had been lost. Unwelcome as it had been, the rest provided her with courage and clarity.  
 _No, I must do this on my own. I can do this._  
-  
The advantage of being a sniper was knowing where to be, where to aim and when to shoot.

Vivi sat in the pitch-black cell, out of her own free will in absolute silence, even her breathing mingled with the quietude of the night.

And it was that sound, of the inhale and exhale that divulged the location of the occupant in the cell next to her. She could hear the indignation in every draw of air that Ezekiel took. He was cornered, disgraced and resolute in his lack of protests. Perhaps, he was still in denial. Or maybe he thought active resistance was beneath him. This was somewhat impressive.  
  
For a whole night and a day, since Eze’s arrest, he had had no visitors. No one knew she was there, she lurked when she could, usually slinking into the cell, into her spot past sunset.  
After the arrival of Jared fanned the fire in the blonde and drove him to cross new lines, Vivi was left intrigued. It vexed her that she knew of the ex-second-in-command but had never bothered to _know_ him.

_Better late than never.  
_

The sharp clanging of the bars had shattered the eerie tranquillity that was unwittingly shared by the free and the imprisoned, by the witness and the witnessed.  
And it irritated Vivi. But did not compel her to make her presence known.  
“I hope you’re happy Eze!”  
“Revenge is a petty look on you, T… But you wear it oh-so-often”  
The sniper could make out that Tariq’s quest for vengeance was rather hollow. It was his frustration and a keen sense of guilt that added an untrammelled ferocity to the way his baton struck the only thing keeping him from breaking his friend. He managed to speak over the din,  
“You best hope I don’t find a way in Eze...”  
  
The east-facing cells had painfully antiquated technology securing them. In Q.B.’s defence, a security upgrade was futile when no prisoner had attempted a breakout from these cells. There was nowhere to go from here, where they would not be found.  
Vivi could help Tariq find his way in with ease, a part of her was curious to see if his words were a bluff.  
But she waited.  
  
That lilt of betrayal that made Tariq sound so wounded, just made Eze scoff.  
According to him, Tariq latched onto being the victim of duplicity, so he did not have to face being the passive perpetrator. He had turned a blind eye too and conveniently; accepted too many things at face value. And acted upon them. Ezekiel felt safe behind the bars, safe behind the curtain of the title he once had, even though it was now lost. _They can’t hurt the ex-SiC._  
“Why, do you miss it? Being in here? I’m certain you’ll do something to find your way back soon enough. Now that you don’t have me protecting you.”  
  
The bars were rattled.  
 _How dare he suggest that he was protecting me?  
_ And the rattling stopped abruptly.  
A lone figure approached, this one Vivi had not been expecting. She tucked a strand of her freshly dyed pink hair behind her ears and remained lurking in the safe shadows of her open cell. She sat up straighter as she watched the frail silhouette pass her.  
  
“Nova?”  
Nova had already noticed Tariq before he called out.  
The BioHacker was still in the black bodice and leggings. She looked like a lithe, black cat… carrying bad news and bad luck.  
She wanted to do this alone, but she could not turn tail now. This was a time sensitive matter. She would have to deal with whatever judgement followed when Tariq learned about Zizi.  
She swallowed and ignored the ex-squadron leader, her voice was a whisper and directed at the man in the cell.  
“Eze, I need to let her out.”  
The blonde spoke over her, deliberately.  
“Aww… My SuperNova, I expected you sooner. Are you enjoying having the house all to yourself?”  
His drawl had only worsened with his circumstance. He knew she was not _alone_ in what used to be his home. She stiffened and cleared her throat.  
  
Tariq’s confused questions found words.  
“Let who out? From where?”  
Everybody he knew was safe…   
She ignored him again.  
“Please, just tell me how, Eze…”  
Even a state of disgraced imprisonment, her pleading, especially when it was so genuine, was like music. He teetered to the bars and hung onto them. If Tariq could not see the gravity of the moment and if he had not been distracted by the unanswered questions, his baton would have broken the pale clutching fingers.  
  
Ezekiel couldn’t help taunting her, she made it so easy.   
“Do say that again, SuperNova… I so dearly miss you begging.”  
Two pairs of amber eyes pinned Eze, one set desperate, one livid, just like he liked them.  
He laughed, even with his back against a wall and in a cell, Ezekiel knew how to play them. He still had cards up his sleeve.  
  
The golden eyes averted and found each other instead. Tariq searched for an explanation in her features _._ Nova realised that there was no point in hiding it anymore. She looked at the floor of the cell as she answered, guiltily.   
“He is keeping a woman in a hidden room against her wishes. I can’t find a way to let her out…”  
  
Ezekiel was smart to step away and take his hands off the rods, just as the baton clanged against where his digits had been moments ago. Tariq’s gaze darkened considerably. The blonde clicked his tongue and smirked.  
“I haven’t the faintest idea of what you’re talking about.” 

“She’ll die.”  
Nova stated, as though that would change anything.  
It did not.  
Ezekiel shrugged.  
“And whose fault would that _really_ be?”  
  
Tariq gave up on the man he had once called a friend and offered a naive solution.  
“Why can’t we report this, Nova? I’m sure someone will find a way…”  
Ezekiel receded deeper into his cell, his voice echoed in the dingy room as shadows and soft light made his features appear more menacing than ever.  
“Yeah, SuperNova, tell him why you can’t report this. Because it was not me who used her for experiments now, was it? The same ones that allowed her to fix you and Kira by the way, T.”  
 _I just wanted to find a way to help her before she was handed off to authorities.  
_ Nova did not trust Q.B. to be able to handle Zizi’s life with the sensitivity she thought it would require. But between life and discomfort, Nova’s choice for herself and for the people around her had always been obvious. _Life.  
  
It’ll be difficult, but at least she’ll live… I do not care what happens to me…  
_Nova’s thoughts only served as a reminder that there may be no other way. Before Tariq could fathom the implications of what Ezekiel just shared, her clear voice cut through his thoughts like broken glass.  
“We can. We _should_ just report it, we must, in fact. I don’t care what they do to me. I don’t want her dying in there. Who should I go to? Who would be able to help her best?”  
Nova seemed to have convinced herself already and now was bolstering her spirit and coming to terms with this being the only option if there was no way to make Ezekiel give up the information on how to get into the room.  
 _They will have to believe me if what I say implicates me and I tell them anyway, right?_  
Nova had surrendered herself to this option in her mind, she needed to _act_.  
 _Zizi is not dying on my watch_. _I will find a way. Some way. Any way._  
  
Tariq was certain that there was more to it than he knew. This was something she probably did not want to do. Nova was driven, but the tendencies Tariq had seen did not reconcile with the picture Ezekiel painted.  
 _You are not fooling me anymore, Eze._  
He knew Nova would willingly suffer for something she did not have to suffer for, just for the life that was at stake here. She shared that trait with him… Just like Akira did.  
“There must be another way.”  
The conundrum was infectious and now had its claws in him.   
  
“There is.”  
Vivi’s voice startled both Tariq and Nova in equal measure, Tariq visibly recoiled and then drew himself into a stance to strike. The BioHacker was better at stifling the jump.  
He did not strike when he saw the bubble-gum hair emerged from the neighbouring cell,  
“What the fuck, Viv?”  
Tariq was ignored again. A trio now pooled outside Ezekiel’s cell.  
“Eze… This certainly doesn’t have to do anything with that private Biometric ScanLock you had me work on, does it?”  
Vivi’s voice sounded like she was reciting a moving poem. The Blonde’s absolute silence was an answer. There was no sneering now. Anna’s scalpel flashed in the pale moonlight as Vivi twirled it in her fingers.  
  
Only the sniper spoke and asked the questions now.  
“Nova, you do know where this room and the scanner is, right?”  
The medic wearily nodded.  
Vivi described the gadget she had created for Ezekiel a few months ago. Nova confirmed with another small nod, that it was the scanner tucked away in a book on the bookshelf that covered the hidden door.   
“You can’t - you can’t get in here.”  
Ezekiel tried; his voice finally faltered. Vivi removed a small device from her satchel and let it snap onto the lock of the cell with a soft click. A few beeps followed and then another click - The cell door swung open.  
  
Ezekiel’s back was already against the wall—literally now, he had scurried to the very back of the  
small cell on instinct as he spewed the promises of unpleasant consequences.  
“They’ll know! They’ll know! You will _all_ land up here for taking matters into your own hand.”  
“Well you did say I’ll wind up in here, anyways right? At least it’ll be worth i-”  
Vivi’s fingers found Tariq’s shoulder as he spoke and was about to step in. He shrugged her hand off. He had still not forgiven her for what she did to Akira. But he did wait.  
  
The sniper spoke exclusively to Nova in a whisper. The silence let Tariq catch a few of the hushed questions.  
 _‘Iris… print... serum healing?’_  
Nova had resorted to using only nods.   
“Then no one has to know…”  
Vivi finished. Uncharacteristically, she waited for Nova to confirm that the plan was fine. Nova’s eyes went wide, then narrowed… And then she closed them and drew a breath. As usual, when she opened them again, there was a newfound resolution in them. She stood up straighter, squaring her delicate shoulders like a warrior and she used words again.   
“If it must be done and there is no other way...” 

The plan was relayed to Tariq in his entirety.  
  
The soft peal of Anna’s giggle haunted the man inside the cell as much as the dark gratification in Tariq’s amber eyes. But the sight that truly chilled him to the bone, was Nova’s indifference. She did not avert her eyes.  
Not as Tariq easily overpowered the blonde and held him down, not as Anna’s scalpel made the cuts.  
Three agents walked into the prison and came out with the things they needed to free Zizi.  
The night bore witness to the howls of a man who had taken so much pleasure in drawing them out of others in the past.  
  
-  
  
Much later that night, Novara carried a small silicone satchel, a couple of bottles of BuzzBo and a larger bottle of water to the cell. To _his_ cell.  
He sat in a corner, slumped onto the floor exactly where Tariq, Vivi-Anna and she had left him.  
A roughly tied makeshift bandage futilely sought to wipe the tear of blood his wounded eye cried, it only left more red streaks in its wake. The wrapped stump was oozing its own share. His injured eye remained clenched shut and hidden behind the cage of the four fingers that remained attached to the hand.  
The left half of his face was shrouded in the streaks of crimson and the other half was graced by the soft pale light of the moon. The contrast was as striking as it was scary…  
And it did nothing to deter the BioMedic standing outside his cell.

“You… fucking bitch.”  
He spat in a pained hiss. She didn’t respond and crouched to carefully set the bottles she had procured onto the floor of the cell through the thin dark poles. He did not make any motions towards her. He could not, not with the intention to harm anyway.  
“Do you want them back?”  
She asked and pursed her lips.  
“You… you’re just burying evidence, you-”  
His curses were lost in a pained whisper.  
It was her turn to shrug. She did not care, a part of her wanted him to deny the help and reconstructive healing. She knew he would not. He cared about appearances way too much and cared about perfection even more.  
Now it was only a matter of time for him to decide what he was willing to endure for it.  
She repeated her question, slower. Her tone was ever so slightly patronizing.  
“Do you want them back?”  
She had already begun to draw the serum into the syringe.  
He swallowed and looked at her. Disgusted at the predicament he was in.  
“Yes.”  
He croaked.  
  
Perhaps, in some other universe, Nova would have found it within her to make him beg for it.  
The large needle glinted menacingly.  
She did not enter the cell.  
All the experiments had certainly allowed her to iterate things and learn. The method was mad, but it taught her to be precise, in practice and in instruction.   
She did not need to instruct; he knew about it all too well, too. After all, he had made it a point to witness the process. After indirectly being the reason, it was required to begin with… Repeatedly.

For Zizi, for Akira and for Tariq…  
She did not need to instruct him, but she pointedly did. And there was something powerful in watching actions follow _her_ words, for once.  
  
He slipped the bandage off and stumbled to the front of the prison.  
“C-can you s-ee?”  
Panic and uncertainty tumbled out of his lips. A trembling hand was hoisted up the horizontal spoke.  
“Well, Anna isn’t here… So, you’ll have to take your chances.”  
He did not call her SuperNova now, when she truly was being super. The needle teetered.  
“We should probably start with the eye; it’ll require you to stay… stiller.”  
The single eye that stared at her, shed a bitter, fearful tear. She stared on, almost like she could not see him.  
“Hold it open and try not to move.”  
  
The ruby eye squinted inwards, watching the needle as his thumb and forefinger, and hers (Nova’s work ethic did not allow her to be entirely irresponsible), held the other one open.   
They had to scoop out his cornea and iris, the oddly reflective lens lurked behind the wound.  
Nova steadied herself, which was easier than she had anticipated.  
Carefully she inserted the needle into the pinked and bloody white, deep enough to reach the right targets.  
Once, twice and then another few times.  
Ezekiel had just become the first human subject to have the serum tried on his eye. There certainly was a poetic _eyerony_ , to that.  
 _Hopefully, this works. Most probably, it will..._ _There is a chance it may not.  
_ They both thought. Till the agony wiped any thoughts from Eze’s mind.

On this rare occasion, Nova didn’t care too much if she happened to fail. _  
_The only reason she wished it didn’t, in some capacity was not for herself, or for him... But for everyone else involved in helping her. They deserved better than to get into trouble for this. The gruff cry that his lips issued, rose to a screech then to a siren-like wail. It would only get worse.  
He fell to his knees, leaving crimson trails on the bars as his grip slackened.   
  
“Please… please come back for the thumb… Please… I cannot take it. Please SuperNova.”  
He should have stuck to not calling her that. The name he had called her for so long and in such a derogatory manner, was spoken with sincerity, but that did not matter. It slipped out of his lips before he could stop himself, maybe if it had not, she would have found herself to be merciful.  
“I’m not coming back here, no one is.”  
She said that with a heartfelt conviction.  
“So, now, or never.”   
Four jittery fingers rose to grip the horizontal bar again, pale and weak.  
A needle found its way into the stump.  
The night would continue to bear witness to the excruciating process required to fix a broken man.


	4. Would you rescue me?

The small flecks of blood did not stain the carpet, for the tufty textile was crimson itself.  
Good thing Ezekiel had a fascination with that color. A freshly, but carefully plated and mounted ruby iris was scanned by a device wedged in one of the books from the bookshelf. Then the pale, detached thumb. Something that sounded hydraulic tugged against the bookshelf.  
  
Having successfully aided in the venture, Vivianne retreated to the bathroom, her scalpel needed some tlc. Nova dropped the book with the Biometric ScanLock and fell to her knees. Relief and anxiety found her in equal measure. It was Tariq who stood at attention, keenly following the motion of the thick fake wall as it slid into a slot and revealed a glass-panelled room—If one could call it that.  
  
The hidden room was basically a water closet with a metal gurney, that lacked a mattress and presumably served as a bed, nonetheless. A small screen was hoisted onto the wall on the other side. Tariq did not notice any of that. Just the, tall, figure garbed in a pale, thin robe.  
Her right arm was missing, just below the elbow.  
And her left leg above the knee.  
  
They looked like old injuries, with the leg being more recent. From a cursory glance, it looked like she had experience with a host of different kind of prosthetics, though she wore none now.  
Tariq knew of agents who had lost limbs on the frontlines, that was not what upset him too much.  
She could have had the frame of a warrior instead, the voluptuous woman lay there, weak and debilitated. It was the evidence of chronic suffering… that daunted Tariq.

She had lost more than just her parts. Despite the gaunt of her cheeks, the malnourished sleekness of her form, she still had an almost aberrant exuberance to her umber skin. An internal incandescence that slipped out of her being. And there was mistrust and fear.  
In the two emerald eyes that looked up at him, with a depth to them that he could sink in.  
She looked as lost as Tariq felt.  
  
Zizi searched his face for features and expressions she recognized. She did not. No one had visited her for almost three nights, and she was grateful. Except for the hunger clawing at her insides. She had been surviving on the water from the tap by the gurney.  
 _This man is new._  
He fell to his knees, hoping that it will make him come off as less domineering and shuffled towards her.  
 _This man is doing new things too._  
Perhaps he moved too fast and spooked her. Perhaps he should have really weighed everything she had gone through…  
  
She slunk away from him on instinct. Inching away to the spot somewhere beneath the screen.  
And started muttering fervently. Tariq could not make out the words, but he could make out a certain rhythm. It tugged at him in ways he did not think possible. She had her knees pressed to her chest; face buried within. All he could see was the mass curls and the constellation of freckles on the skin that peeked from under the strands.  
She went on, the silence apart from her disjointed lyrical sounds was so stark, Tariq had no choice but to latch onto each one as he got closer.  
 _“Empty promises, empty threats, empty lies and empty beds.”_  
They sounded accusatory and familiar. But also seemed to be paper weights for the woman’s consciousness.  
And each syllable cut.   
  
_What the fuck did Eze do?_  
Tariq had a grim idea based on what Ezekiel had suggested and the poignant guilt that lurked in Nova’s features… and her reticence. He looked around the room again, this time letting the dullness of it settle into his being. It triggered a whole wave of memories.  
It looked like the hate-child of a drab hospital room and a prison cell.  
The whole situation triggered memories of the series of unfortunate events, orchestrated by someone he called his friend.  
He looked over his shoulders at Nova’s crumpled kneeling, then back at the woman in front of him and flashes of Akira, falling off the pole… kneeling on stage… tainted his memories.  
 _Knife… Gun… Scalpel… Batons… Holding Cell… Poles… Whips… Syringes and Needles… Cards… And now this.  
_ He suppressed a shudder.  
 _Get. A. Grip. This is not about me. I must get her out of this room.  
  
_ He had stopped thinking about _how-could-hes,_ pertaining to Ezekiel. Now, it was more about damage management.   
He backed up, creating some distance between them again.  
She watched him flit closer and away. Reacting to her like like-sided magnets and sized him up. He looked like someone who could hold his own in a skirmish, which was no surprise given he was in Q.B. attire.  
 _If he has access to this room, he must be one of Ezekiel’s lackeys, right?_  
He caught her staring at the weapons and implements, his toolkit to subdue a criminal.  
He really did not want to come off as a threat, he raised his hands slowly, trying to signify safety and peace before reaching for the cuffs. She tensed a little and offered side-eye. He began plucking off the weapons hooked onto his belt – Prod-baton, holster and then cuffs and left them on the floor in a pile.  
  
This made her stop rapping.  
Lyrics she had penned a long time ago, words that had cost her then and continued to cost her now. She tried to have no regrets; recent events made that a little harder.  
 _But maybe she had a chance…_  
She watched him slowly disarm, through the cage of her light-brown strands.  
 _Amateur.  
_ She thought, watching him with a certain earnest now. Her eyes flicked from him, to the open door behind him. She could neither hear, nor see anyone else in that godforsaken study. And then she looked at what she saw as tools to escape… Things he so boldly and nobly left on the floor.  
 _But they are too far… I’m too slow right now._  
Slowly he sidled up to her again and reached out.   
“Hey… hey… It is ok. I’m not going to hurt you.”  
  
“ _You_ aren’t… someone might…”  
She sounded a little resigned.   
His hand continued to hover, getting closer slowly, like trying to reach for a cornered woman. She was tired and exhausted. This man was being nice, but if he was still here to ready her for a brawl or to prepare her for Ezekiel somehow, she did want to try appeal to his mercy.  
“… I can’t take any more… I’d rather just die”  
  
 _No. Not again.  
_ Tariq flew into autopilot. There was no electricity coursing through him this time. Nothing was stopping him from reaching for the woman who seemed ready to die. _  
I could do nothing for Kira… But I can do something now._  
Swiftly but gently, a hand curled around her shoulders, while the other looped under her knee, so he could lift her off the floor and carry her out.  
She let him carry her slightly closer to the pool of things he had left on the floor, before docking her left hand against his chin and shoving at him with all her might.  
He tried holding his arms out and pull his face away from her hand, to make some space between them. His arms remained hooked around her, but loosely. Her hand clawed at his neck and chin, with more insistence.  
  
A soft grunt escaped his lips, more because he was torn by choice, than the discomfort.  
He could either tighten his grip, or slacken it… He wanted to do neither.  
And was forced to choose the latter, especially as she swivelled her other leg, the one that was not whole, to gain enough momentum and roll out of his grip. Her left hand broke the fall and she landed with a certain admirable finesse.  
  
He noticed her gaze flicker towards the assortment of his belongings this time and he lunged for the holster in the distance, slightly sprawled and on all fours, he managed to get his hand on it first.  
He simply held down the weapon, it remained firmly planted to the floor under his palm.  
Inaccessible unless she managed to pry his hands off it. And she would not.   
His eyes widened briefly as she went for the baton, he tried reaching for it with the other hand, but was forced to choose again, he could not risk the grip on the gun.  
  
She got to the baton and remained kneeling.  
And as expected, he was the target.  
He held his breath and clenched his jaw.  
From the corner of his eye, he noticed Nova peer into the room, he could see just her forehead and her eyes.  
Nova bit her lip, her face flattened against the bullet-proof glass.  
_No, Zizi… please…  
_ She debated intervening and was reluctant because it could make matters worse.  
Zizi had no love for her. How could she when Nova spent most of their hours together injecting a serum into her injuries to painfully make her whole again. She was not allowed to any offer Zizi any explanations. Ezekiel took pleasure in reinforcing the belief that Nova _chose_ to indulge this process, to further her own ambitions and even derived joy from the suffering of her victims.  
The medic did try her best to behave otherwise, but was forced to adopt a detached demeanour, for Zizi’s well-being and her own.  
  
Tariq stared at his fingers and continued to, as the baton made contact.  
 _Ffff…_  
It hurt. He killed the word that formed in his mind and the sound that formed in his throat.  
Again.  
She seemed to have tremendous power in her swings and perfect balance in the way she knelt on her knee and residual leg.  
And again.  
 _So, this is how it must have felt…_  
He did not want to think of what he did to Jared as his own fingers started purpling. He had already paid his dues for that, technically… But the rise and fall of the baton, brought with it the memories it did. He clenched his eyes shut briefly, it felt harder to see the baton streak through the air. The tendons of his fingers rose like claws on the back of his hand. His grip tightened, but the pain lent a small tremor to the muscles in his arms, as he fought to keep his hand where it was and his body begged him to pull away.  
Something _did_ crack.

 _She has a lot of fight in her._  
His fingers felt hot and he could see them swell, and the purplish colour deepened.  
 _At least it is my favourite colour._  
And again.  
He groaned. And still did not let go. He also did not ask her to stop. Maybe he should have…  
  
She targeted the outside of his locked elbow. He noticed it just in time to bend it and lowered himself, with his arms against the floor, his body hanging over the holster his broken fingers held.  
Zizi had a sickening lurch in the pit of her stomach. As the baton connected with the elbow. He saved himself from a nasty fracture, but he still did not retaliate after the _thwunk_. That felt unusual.   
_  
Fight back moron._  
It was not just about the gun anymore.  
Zizi knew that the baton’s taser function was locked behind finger-print access of authorized personnel only.

 _Fucking inconvenient, I can’t pry the gun and I doubt I’ll have a chance to put his finger on the sensor properly…_  
A baton was not heavy-handed enough as a weapon for her to hobble to her escape with. 

_I would probably not get far either way.  
_ All the effort made Zizi a little dizzy. But she had to try targeting that last joint.  
Nova noticed the strength Zizi put into the next swing and her hand flew to her face. She winced for Tariq and drew a breath to speak.  
 _This must stop._  
A muffled sound followed the second _thwunk_ against his shoulder.  
Tariq did not let go. And then nothing. It was over. That was the final strike.  
Tariq’s free hand wrapped around his shoulder and he tucked his legs under him to sit on his heels. Bruised, but not battered.  
  
Nova was glad she did not make matters worse and marvelled at the way Tariq managed the situation that was about to get out of hand. She quickly ducked out of view again and sighed.  
“Is it because I’m... I’m a woman or a cripple?”  
Zizi rasped, she leaned against the transparent wall.   
“I just meant what I said… I don’t want to hurt you...”  
Tariq managed with effort that mirrored hers.  
Vivianne re-emerged in the study, tucking her scalpel into its spot. She set her steady, unfaltering gaze onto the scene, slightly impassively. Her eyebrows rose. Vivi’s glassy blue eyes lingered on Tariq’s fingers for a moment.  
 _Blooming bruises. Hmm.  
_  
When her eyes locked with man’s, he deadpanned and rolled his eyes, in response to her gentle smirk. But his expressions were not filled with the malice they had been earlier that night.  
Pain was their language. Or rather, in some ways, pain had always been Vivianne’s language… and he… and Akira had learned not to mind that so much. They had even learned to enjoy her fascination and share some of it… Till she crossed the line.  
 _But Vivi and Anna came through today though... Betrayal does not have to be absolute… Maybe it was a mistake? I made one too…_  
“She needs food… I’ll get some.”  
Vivi’s voice was such a contrast in comparison to the broken voices of the others.  
On her way out, she did wonder if these people—her friends-- could catch a break…  
Zizi watched the woman leave with dazed caution. Another unfamiliar face and perhaps there were more. 

“Is that okay, will you eat? Can I… help you out of this room?”  
He looked at her and saw the wounded pride.  
“Fattening me up like livestock for slaughter? Whatever… I can walk out myself…”  
Ezekiel’s interest in her had been waning over the last fortnight or so.  
 _Maybe this guy is just new at this job.  
_  
To her, Tariq seemed kind and concerned, but that did not mean much. She was not expecting great things. They were probably in charge of readying her for the next show and given her current state, she did not think she would make it out alive.  
There was a heart wrenching resignation in that ‘whatever’   
But Tariq tried, relentlessly. She did not have to do it all on her own. He crouched and then got up; he watched her struggle to pull herself up using the wall. Tariq let go of his shoulder and winced. Swiftly, he clipped the holster back to his belt and snapped the belt back around his coat. He could only offer the woman his aid again.  
“Will… you let me-”  
  
She sighed and took his hand.  
He handled her with care and helped her up. There was no pity in his gestures, but admiration for her will. She teetered, little from the weakness and a little from exerting her leg too much.  
 _She really does need food…_

Tariq thought, allowing her to find her bearings, while being there, to catch her if she could not.  
She did fall into him, which felt like something she was far more unprepared for than he was.  
She recoiled and swatted at him and the help he offered.  
“I’m… I’m fine.”  
Her snapping tone was blunted by the struggle.  
“Okay…” _  
_ He let go of her and raised his hands in surrender and watched.  
She hopped a little, her left hand sliding against the wall, then paused and took a deep breath. She pursed her lips and looked at him.   
“We try again?”  
He said softly and held out his hand another time. He knew of men and women who hated the feeling of helplessness, who did not like relying on others in adversity, but sometimes had to. He knew he would probably be one of those kinds…  
  
She nodded and sighed, hating the vulnerability her circumstance forced on her.  
Nova did not know where to go. So, she hung her head and continued sitting there. Waiting to catch a glimpse of Zizi’s toes as Tariq managed to coax her out.  
“We’re just getting out, so we can close this… this-”  
He did not want to diminish what had been her home.  
“-place, for good.”  
  
As he had hoped and expected, once they were out, he felt the relief and life crawl back into her. At least that is what he though, and all Tariq could do, was hope it was here to stay.  
Nova was so quiet, Zizi missed her presence. She was drawn to the fireplace on the other side of the study, literally like a moth to a flame. She directed Tariq towards it.


	5. Try try Again.

For the first time in forever, Jared slept well. He let his mind forget. He willed the demons away.   
The sheer exhaustion had taken its toll and that was as much a mercy as it was contagious.   
Because, miraculously, Akira slept well too. Between covers that were tugged, covers that were stolen… Covers that wrapped up all the trauma and gave them the option of tucking them away. At least temporarily. Because most importantly these covers were shared. It felt like centuries had passed since they last succumbed to the warmth of that.   
  
He woke up at o-three-hundred hours, like clockwork. And that almost felt better than the much craved and needed sleep.   
Jared liked the safety of a routine.   
Akira liked the safety of a bed.   
She vaguely recalled him kissing her forehead as he went for a morning? (It felt more like midnight) jog. She had eagerly pressed herself against him then.   
Naturally, he offered another when he returned.   
The sleepy vixen winced, recoiled and pulled the covers over her head this time with an annoyed mewl to follow.   
Jared rolled his eyes.   
  
Following a shower, he brazenly threw open the curtains. Despite the assault of the sun, Akira stubbornly slept through the early morn. She had begun that restless stirring that let him know she was awake enough, but simply refusing to get out of bed. In the recesses of her mind she didn’t want to acknowledge the day.   
Bed was comfy. Bed was good.   
  
The clatter of the _Mu ren zhuang_ was bound to wake Shira.   
He wore a delinquent grin as he stretched.   
  
He was right, sort of. The clatter did not wake her as a disturbance, but as a promise.   
She squinted her eyes open to look at him. To watch him. There was a draw to the nostalgic familiarity of watching Jared work out. It wasn’t just about the way his body moved or the way he perfectly balanced a certain fluidity, with the rigidity of precision.  
It was the focus, the sharp reminder of the biggest thing that set him apart from her. His discipline.  
  
She sighed, audibly and testily.   
He knew he had found success, though he did not know exactly why. Regardless, his grin widened, but he didn’t break his focus. His eyes remained on his imaginary opponent as he continued to weave his arms between the swiftly moving wooden spokes. She’d asked for the _Mu ren zhuang_ to be installed in her room, but did not use it as often as she should have.   
This was good use.   
And suddenly she was met with an urge to try.   
  
She slid out of the bed, freshened up with an urgency and within moments had sidled between Jared and the wooden spar tool. He cautiously directed her. Her smile dangerously faltered when she realised just how out of practice she was.   
“Shira… It’s okay…”  
She frowned. The words returned; they could not stay hidden in blankets forever.   
_‘Failure.’_  
“Shira. Listen to me. It is okay. Things don’t just _happen_ , they need time...”   
She closed her eyes, her hand clawed at her arm through her nightwear. But she caught herself and took a deep breath.   
  
He was not going to molly-coddle her. Yes, she had failed, but that didn’t make her a failure.   
“We try try till we succeed right…”  
He avoided using the word _failure._   
And yet, Akira was perceptive enough to recognize its absence. Perhaps, it did not leave her thoughts _as_ readily. Whatever it was, it left her irked. She nodded curtly and slunk away from him. From warmth and from support. This was her battle and hers alone. She did not need help and she did not need anyone walking on eggshells around her either.   
“It’s fine… I’ll be fine.”  
She retorted softly and believed she would be too. After all, last night had not been the first time such thoughts permeated her being. It was just more intense than usual.   
_That is all it was. You are fine. You… can do this._  
She lied to herself, tried to convince herself that she would simply wake up a success.   
Jared was not wrong, she would have to work at it. Try things.   
_And risk failing… again.  
_ That was a simple probability. And yet it crippled her.   
  


He wrapped himself around her and decided not to say anything. She didn’t push him away this time. But the silence hung thickly, and she felt like challenging it.   
“Say something…”  
“What do you want me to say?”  
She knew he would say that. She clicked her tongue and shrugged out of his embrace churlishly.   
A bottle of BuzzBo was opened. It was the fruity variety and it was her last one. She had saved her preferred flavour to carry along with her for her mission—the one that had landed her in Jared’s unwelcome and waiting arms.   
_We were both been played._   
Given everything else that transpired after, she did not hold too many grudges against him. Though a lot of her memories felt fuzzy enough to make it easier to grant that forgiveness, in the now.   
  
“Red, what did Cepheus say, exactly?”   
Jared wasn’t sure if discussing such matters with her was prudent.   
Akira did not take his hesitance too well.   
“Jared?”  
At least, there was a general safety in the assumption that no one was going to bother them today. Hopefully, they would have the time to untangle some things.   
Maybe the mistake he made was sheltering her too much. Maybe he ought to have more faith.   
“He wanted me to replace Ezekiel as SiC.”   
She narrowed her eyes between the gulp of her drink and offered it to him. Her demeanour around the news was more casual than either of them had anticipated. Her surprise did not last. It did sound like a sensible political offer.   
  
“That’s not bad, right? Are _Scar-and-Mark_ going to just find out when they do? Or do you get to talk to them?”  
Jared had not quite heard her refer to the SpecSyn leaders that way before, nor the abrasive quality of her tone when talking about them.   
“Did they contact you without my knowledge or something? Did something happen? Is that why you…”   
He still couldn’t bring himself to associate her with words like ‘turncoat’.   
She could, though she did not think of herself as a traitor.   
  
“Defected?” she almost sounded proud. “No, they never contacted me. And I did not really betray SpecSyn. I simply… stopped trading in information and took up a new post, I suppose. Like you could...”  
She still skittered around her reasons. To him it felt like she was pushing him to make a similar choice, so she could justify her own within that.   
This did peeve Jared.  
“It’s not that simple.”   
  
He did not mean to sound as stand-offish as he did. He bit back the need to tell her that SpecSyn put her here. That this post was a _part_ of her mission. That she did not earn her spot. But he could see that not going down well.   
She cocked an eyebrow acutely aware of the silence he chose, yet again. But she shrugged, leaving half the bottle of her beverage on the table for him before settling onto her beanbag.   
She fiddled with the CommCube, her eyes glassing over slightly as she focused on the documents displayed by her SmartEye. Mostly, she focused on those relating to her poorly applied neuromodulation techniques. The one’s Eze had probably tried to use on her and Tariq.   
_What… went wrong?_  
  
Pangs of dissatisfaction lined her face, as she flicked through several other unfinished theories she had penned. Projects started and dropped, for one reason or another. Some in their early phases and some close to completion. But she had _just_ not made it.   
Alcyone had considered cutting her from the program and warned her accordingly.   
It is what had compelled Akira to accept the solo scouting mission and they had made it sound simple enough.   
Too simple.   
She should have seen the signs and figured that it was designed to bait Jared.  
Now he was here.   
_And maybe things worked out in the end?_  
She dared to hope.   
  
He kept a wary eye on her, but from a distance. The peace that had rested on her face when she slept was replaced so thoroughly in a matter of hours.   
_Half a bottle of BuzzBo isn’t lunch._   
He thought absently and noisily scoured the shelves for _something._  
“There is nothing there. You don’t stock up before you go on a mission, do you?”  
She snapped.   
Neither of them had much of an appetite anyway. The ghost of everything that happened, sat between them, hand in hand with the words left unsaid.   
He stilled and sat down in front of the small dining table and busied himself with his own encrypted and haphazard notes. Designs for spyware that incorporated cutting-edge scientific phenomenon, things he had worked on for SpecSyn.  
  
A few hours passed and they both continued to mechanically pretend like they were busy, while embroiled in the dusky waters of the past, their parts and their choices.   
He wanted to ask her what she was working on. Perhaps he should have, instead of what he did end up asking. On some level, he thought honestly clearing the air between them would help.   
He did still want her reasons.   
“Why did you do it then?”  
She knew he was still referring to her defecting, again. She huffed.  
“Because-”   
She wasn’t sure how to best approach the knowledge she had gleaned about Jared’s past. The little that had been enough to make her reconsider her loyalties.   
“-Well, you know I know, right? Like… _Scar-and-Mark_ basically conditioned you. And probably others like you, who in so many ways, never had a choice… In-”  
He cleared his throat.   
  
She had been looking for an excuse to interrupt the words that raced out of her mouth like eager children and was glad he provided one. Jared measured his words before talking.   
They both felt like they were walking around landmines.   
“We all had choices. They did what they had to, I did what I had to and that is how we got _here_.”  
 _How long was he going to lie to himself like that? How long was he going to defend them?_  
Akira actively rearranged herself to face him now.  
“ _You_ are not the only reason we got _here_.”  
She didn’t really mean for it to sound as personal as it did. But it would take little digging to understand the texture of resentment.   
  
“I never said I was the onl-.”  
He started hotly, and immediately recognized this was not heading in a great direction. But she was on a roll and spoke over him already.   
“Besides, is getting here enough to defend what they did then? What about all the others who did not become Jareds? Who did not end up becoming _heroes_? Who were simply thrown into bad circumstances? Thrown _at people_ like Nikolai.”  
 _Is that what she thinks happened? That I was simply groomed to be Niko’s- Did it?_  
The doubt left a searing gash through his own clarity around the matter.   
He did not like the uncertainty that cropped. Akira could see it, she could see _something._  
Even just that doubt and acknowledgement left her feeling vindicated on some level.   
  
“That’s… That’s not exactly it.”   
_There it was again, his goddamn denial.  
_ She groaned, before contesting,   
“No? Then tell me how it was.”   
He sighed. And he still could not bring himself to.   
The idea of revisiting his murky past that involved the brother of the guy who threatened to publicly execute her, was simply dreadful. It almost made _him_ wish to have had the chance to really take the bullet in her stead. In that moment any way.   
“We barely had lunch; we can’t also skip dinner… I’ll go get something from the cafeteria.”   
He was already up and moving.   
“I’m not hungry… How long are you going to avoid it, Red! Jared?!”  
She was forced to call out after him. He was already gone. The door closed behind him with a soft click. She sat deflated, sinking deeper into the beanbag. Akira used the time he stole for himself, to try and formulate her arguments and questions. If they were really going to clear the air, he too, would need to be straight with her. Uncomfortably so if need be.   
Little did she know, he was going to be gone for a lot longer than either of them expected. 


	6. Fooled Around?

Today, there was something comforting about the consistency of the concrete around him as he ambled to the cafeteria. The grey was there. It was solid, assuring and necessary.   
He did not know the compound well and kept an eye out for signs that could guide him.   
A platoon marched by; he ignored the cohort of people as much as they ignored them. Jared was grateful for the shroud of darkness. In his black tracksuit, he was just some agent – and not the Red Knight.   
  
He processed the argu- _discussion_ with Shira.  
He was not wrong, and neither was she. Cepheus had challenged him similarly a mere night ago.   
Jared was not fully conscious of just how much agency he had lost. Just how many choices were made through him, but not completely by him and almost never _for_ himself.   
Of how many times… he had chosen silence and still did. And yet, Akira wanted to be with him, with whatever he was...   
_Who am I anyway?_   
And yet, the commander general of Q.B. was willing to trust him with the post he offered.   
_Anyone is a big step up after Ezekiel though._  
Jared could not really seek any assurance from that.   
  
But he did want to make things work. He did want to find a way through all this.   
He could see more of Akira’s reasoning, but pieces of her were missing. Parts of her that he knew of, but had not held, had not really seen. Akira probably felt the same way. His parts were skeletons in his closet. Her parts felt tamer, easier to behold.  
Just then, Jared’s cursory gaze found the sleek bubble-gum hair.   
No, her parts were not all that tame either. Perhaps, she did have her own skeletons too.   
  
_People here at Q.B. had ‘scarred-and-marked’ her just as much as Scar-and-Mark, me, right?_   
Vivianne was a reminder that Akira had suffered in unexpected ways too.  
And in ways that he had seen at the hands of Ezekiel.   
Suddenly, in his head, he was the victim and advocate for SpecSyn and she was the victim and representative for Q.B, as he grappled with his options.  
He did not mean for it to become this way.   
He also did not need any signs to his destination anymore. His gaze never left the striking pink hair and strode towards Vivi, in a quick pace. His steps fell before his reason and mind had a chance to catch up.   
“You.”  
  
Vivi responded to many things, but ‘you’ certainly was not one of them. She had strolled into the cafeteria with more of a purpose than she usually did, and that distraction kept her from spotting Jared, or attributing any significance to his call.   
“Vivianne.”   
She whipped around already correcting the caller sharply as he graduated from you to her full name.   
“Just Vivi – Oh! If it isn’t The Red Knight himself!”  
She had not been seeking him, but he felt like a good find. Vivi felt obligated to tell him about Zizi, it did involve Novara after all. She had gathered they were friends. Plus, it looked like Tariq could use the help. But Jared had other matters on his mind.   
The cafeteria was too crowded, and a few people had already started staring after her loud greeting.   
  
The conversation he wanted warranted some privacy.   
“Follow me.”  
Vivi did not have to. She did not usually respond to orders outside of combat and Jared held no rank here. Not yet, not that she knew of the offer at all.   
But she did. Out of curiosity. Easily distracted, she fell off course quickly.   
His hands were fists in his pocket. It was difficult to remain collected through the surge of his flaring temper.   
He kept careful distance as they rounded into an alley behind the cafeteria.  
“So, you like playing with knives and cigarettes then?”  
His tone was deliberately flat. He wanted answers and explanations, not revenge. But he did want to see some consequences. And he ought to know how things happen if he was to take up SiC.   
He had seen a glimpse of Vivianne’s flair in the bus, it did not take a genius to see her odd sense of fascination. And, one way or another, despite what she had done, she had also potentially saved Akira’s life.   
_Doesn’t make it ok though._  
  
Vivi cocked her head and corrected him again,   
“ _Anna_ , likes to play with her _scalpel_. I suppose I like knives sometimes… and cigarettes. From what I have heard, so do you.”   
Jared took a deep breath and really could not tell if she was being deliberately obtuse.   
“On people?”   
“Yes. On people… for you too, right? You don’t happen to have one on you, do you?”  
She sounded excited, like the least he could do was offer some sort of kinship and share a smoke. She leaned against the wall behind her and propped her foot on it casually.   
And then she went on almost like she was judging _him._ He missed it entirely.   
“Anna and I usually only use those when someone wants it or needs it though… Like that time in the bus. And…”   
“Yes, but Shira didn’t want it.”   
He replied hotly and he was curt.   
  
She let out something between a snort and a churlish giggle.   
“Didn’t stop you either… from what I’ve heard…”  
It took him a moment to make the connection.   
_Eze must have divulged his knowledge about the SpecSyn training debacle. That stupid day is going to haunt me forever. I should not have…_  
At least it would always serve as a good reminder for him to never cross lines again.  
As tempting as it felt right now. In that spirit, he took another step back.  
She was good at filling the silence the space left between them, answering the unasked questions.   
“The day _you_ came along… She didn’t want things anymore…”   
Vivi lamented, like he was in some way responsible for what happened. And like she had not expected him or her little act of vengeance to put a damper on things the way that they had.   
  
Jared blinked.   
“You… you two-”  
“Fooled around? Yeah. And I promise, she liked it. Her response to fear…”   
She smacked her lips together and winked. She had diminished what she shared with Akira because it felt unattainable now. Vivi did still hope that it had something to do with _everything else_ that happened. There was too much that had happened. She did not linger on it though, because she was in a good mood after having dealt with Ezekiel, – who did largely seem responsible for this… _everything else_.   
_Him! That woman…  
_ “Oh! I think Novara and Tariq need a little help… and… someone else.”  
The blankness on Jared’s face was instantly replaced with concern and fury.   
  
His clenched fingers tightened in his pocket and he could not help but close in now. There was still some hesitancy in his steps. His palm rested on the wall next to her, he was dangerously close to doing something he would regret.   
Vivi was entirely unnerved and unperturbed. She was rather hooked onto the various emotions that danced across his face and was not scared of the one that had settled for the time being, like others would be, perhaps.   
“Vivianne, I swear if you did-”  
She cocked her eyebrow, still unfazed and likely to remain so.   
“Just Vivi! And calm down Mister, I had little to do with it. I’m actually trying to help… I need to get food.”  
Most people didn’t take so long to fathom Vivi-Anna as Vivianne’s preference.  
  
A pricked Vivi slipped by Jared, ducking under his hand and walking towards the cafeteria. He let her and followed; his urgency not reflected in her motions.   
“Apparently… Eze had some woman locked in a hidden room and Nova experimented on her or something…”   
Her words this time, were soft. She was smart enough to remain out of earshot.   
Jared stopped walking.   
Vivi turned to look back at him with impatience.   
“I need to get food for her… Are you going to join me, or not?”   
Jared did not expect someone to be more practical than him in the face of crisis.   
He was more worn than he wanted to admit.  
He nodded and followed in a hurry as she brought some bottles.   
“This woman… Is she fine?”  
Wrapped, in mentally flipping through all the implications of what Vivi had just shared, Jared forgot that he was meant to be buying food too. But, Jared was not going back to Akira anymore, he needed to find out more about what happened.   
  
“Not injured at least externally… Unless you count the missing arm and leg. But she is weak… And _hungry_ , I think. Should probably have someone MediScan her…”   
Jared’s mind scoured through possibilities given what Vivi shared.   
She led him towards Ezekiel’s house, he tried to prompt her into hurrying, it did not change much.   
  
The grandiosity of Ezekiel’s homemade Jared nauseous. Q.B. sure had spared a lot for him.   
From a political point of view, it made sense. Ezekiel had become as much a face for them as Jared had been for SpecSyn. And Ezekiel brought in hard cash and good deals for the military.   
Post-Supremacy, Jared’s contributions felt lacklustre—a spyware designer and a shitty mentor…   
Regardless of whether he had been good or bad, Jared did not see himself making the kind of demands Ezekiel clearly had.   
  
“Where was he keeping her?”   
Vivi clammed up for the first time. Not out of guilt or fear, but simply because she was not sure what details were safe to share with Jared, regarding their adventures with Ezekiel.   
“Oh, just in some hidden room… I managed to hack the lock.”  
She still spoke with an effortlessness that did not leave Jared in doubt.   
_So that is what she meant by help._  
“I don’t really need to be here right? You’re here… and…”   
Vivi handed him the drinks as she sought to make herself scarce, the fun parts were all done.   
BuzzBo could use a new advert – A drink for all your _mal_ nourishment needs.   
Briefly, Jared was irked that he was the last to find out about this. That somehow, Nova had involved Tariq and _Vivianne_ , but not him. Then he realised that he had not exactly left himself accessible.   
In the past this would feel worse than it did. For a moment though, a certain part of him ached in concern for Akira. Enough to hesitate but not enough to abandon what felt like his duty.

Jared paused and scanned the slice of the study room visible through the frame of the door. The books in the shelf to the left were slightly jostled and Nova knelt in front of him. She sat like a statue, like any movement would result in some catastrophe. Jared did not make his way inside yet. He rapped at the door softly to draw her attention.   
Their eyes met.  
The ex-SpecSyn BioHacker practically leapt off her spot on the carpet, her eyes darting deeper into the room for a second, before she approached him on padded feet and pulled him away from the threshold of the study. Tariq noticed and followed her, pausing when he noticed Jared. He waited within earshot.   
  
“You _have_ to understand he made me-”  
She drew a shaky breath.   
He was about to reassure her.   
“Her… her name is Zizi. I… Excuse me.”  
As selfish as it seemed, he almost stopped her, only so that he could ask her to check in on Akira. But Nova left in a rare, seemingly self-indulgent hurry.  
She never asked for anything for herself, much like him. It was apparent that she had been through a lot, so Jared could not possibly hold this against her.   
Little did he know that Novara was on her way to Ezekiel. To fix him, which he did not deserve, but in a way that he would not forget in a hurry.


	7. Empty - Ritonix

Jared was left feeling incredibly uncomfortable on Ezekiel’s turf. The blonde had just made that house _his,_ left parts of himself in the tasteful debauchery.   
From the thoughtfully curated pieces of art and display of exotic ancient instruments, to the carefully minimalistic nature of all the furniture that promised convenience, comfort and luxury.  
He walked into the study with Tariq.  
  
“Zizi… sounds like Vivi. Zizi… Vivi… Zizi… Vivi”  
Tariq remarked with a dry snigger. He needed some relief from the tense silence which he and Nova adopted, to let Zizi rest by the fire. This felt like a cheap trick to lighten things and it made her name feel strangely familiar. He swallowed his hollow laughter and surrendered to the awkward silence again when the other man emphatically did not react.   
They made their way back inside.  
  
Jared spotted the tall woman resting on the floor in front of the fireplace.  
She looked like she was napping, lying on her right side. Only a single leg emerged under the hem of the flimsy gown. Her arm lay draped across her ample hips, the fingers caressing the carpet with every uneven breath. Her head was resting in the crook of the other and her eyes were closed. The stump of her forearm that she had lost would have been imperceptibly hidden in her hair.  
Not fingers, nor a fist was visible though the strands and that was enough for Jared to know.  
Much like Tariq, he had seen his share of victims. It was rarer to see them without prosthetics, though. He made it his priority to get her access to those as soon as time permitted after he got a grip on the situation.   
  
Jared noted the swelling and bruises on Tariq’s hands. He jerked his chin towards the pummelled fingers.  
“Is she dangerous?”  
Jared did not sound fearful, just a little concerned and rather matter of fact.  
He was astounded by the resounding quality of Tariq’s answer.  
“No. She’s a survivor!”  
Jared narrowed his eyes, there was curiosity but no accusation.   
“What happened?”  
“Things just got a little… hairy when I- we tried to get her out of the room…”  
Tariq sounded a little brittle; Jared rubbed his temple. There were moments that called for correction and inquiry, this was not one of them. From the looks of it Tariq had done the best he could. He assumed there was an altercation and the Q.B. agent held off without needing to strike or restrain the victim.  
“Right. You should get that looked at.”  
Jared said.  
Tariq’s amber eyes rested on Jared as he replied.  
“I’m fine.”  
“Yes, but Zizi is going to need a wheelchair, she can’t possibly stay here.”  
Jared countered, with an entreating glare.  
  
Someone needed to run tests on Zizi and soon. The situation was a little sensitive and the only viable option for a BioHacker was also someone Zizi was probably terrified of.  
He personally knew what it felt like to be hated by a victim of serum-healing. And Akira had had just one session. From the sounds of it, Zizi had it worse. Regardless, they had to get out of Eze’s house. It was an easy way for Jared to trump Tariq with logic. He had no authority to dismiss Tariq and he could only hope the man would show some faith in him.  
Tariq did have faith in Jared. Given everything they had endured, the mutual suffering, if nothing else, had created some trust and understanding. He could also see that Jared was really trying to get him to leave, but he did make a good point.  
_He’s got this… and…_  
“I’ll be back…”  
_…Sooner I’m gone, sooner I can be back…  
  
_Zizi had not been asleep. Jared should have known better, after all, he had adopted a similar tactic to gain information when he was confined to the hospital bed. She got to her feet with astonishing fleetness, given her state, but she had to, to make a point.  
“Wait!”  
A startled Tariq heeded the exclamation but did not turn.  
“Your hand… I - I’m sorry…”  
Her apology was crisp and not elegiac. There was an indifference to her regret, but also some deference for Tariq’s chivalry. As sour as she had been about it, he had done her a favour and understood the feral nature of a cornered person.  
_Even if they haul me back to the damn pits, at least valour and gallantry is not all dead._  
He pointedly let his uninjured hand hang by his side, clenching and unclenching his fist.  
“I don’t see a problem, do you?”  
“You’re crazy…” she whispered, like it was a personal afterthought.  
She shook her head disbelievingly.  
“ _Empty_ , that’s you singing right? I’m a big fan too…”  
Tariq said having placed the lyrics to the name of the song. He looked over his shoulder and offered a reassuring smile, pretending like nothing ever happened.  
Tariq wished she had not bothered to stand up. He understood that it was to demonstrate the respect she attached to the apology… It still felt unwarranted  
“Does this fan have a name?”  
“Tariq… I best be off though…”  
  
His smile faltered when he saw her doddering. He considered reaching out, he did not need to.  
Jared noticed too from the corner of his eye. The movement helped him snap back to reality. It did not take a genius to know a fall was imminent, he swiftly reached over to break the fall.  
_She is fine. Jared will take care of this… better._  
Tariq conceded to Jared’s experience. With that last glimpse of Zizi falling into Jared’s arms… He left in a hurry.  
  
Once her gaze fell onto the face of the man who caught her, she stiffened in his arms.  
_Jared Knight… Hailed then and hailed now._  
From the way he handled her, it became apparent that he did not know who she was.

_How would he? I was in a goddamn mask._  
And everyone who thought they knew him, were probably wrong.  
  
There he was, composed and detached as usual. Out of personal, illogical vendetta she wanted to strip at that wall, bring to the forefront her own resentment as a victim, as collateral damage in the grand scheme of things. She wanted to and she tried not to, but the bitterness slipped into her tone.  
“Oh… If it isn’t The Red Knight.”  
She greeted him in another whisper that was soft and unsettling.   
Jared could no longer ignore the feeling that something was off, something that necessitated privacy; luckily, he had some now.  
Those green eyes pierced his soul, with reserved judgement. There was a sheen of sweat on her skin.  
“So, where do you stand in all this?”  
She spoke coolly, pulling herself away when she regained footing.  
He frowned and was quick to let her go. She lowered herself to the ground with a slightly ungraceful fall towards the end.  
He sat down too, cross-legged. Like old friends by the fireplace, except it was anything but. They did share a past… And it was not pleasant.  
  
“I was told that Ezekiel held you captive against your will and that Novara was made to conduct experiments on you.”  
She winced; he did not mince his words.  
“That is correct.”   
She did not add any details and studied the man in front of her. Jared could see her unwillingness to really cooperate. She had no reason to trust him, but apart from that, there was more to the simmering, penetrative gaze that pinned him.  
He switched tactics, it made sense to set her at ease first.   
“You must be hungry… I personally like this one...”  
Jared held both the bottles of BuzzBo in his hands, wiggling the fruity flavour. It reminded him pointedly of Akira and their discussion. He ignored the reminder.  
She avoided looking at Jared and could not help choosing the _other_ bottle. The one he did not recommend, the savoury flavour that tasted more like soup.  
It was a pointed decision.  
Jared ignored the feeling and weighed this logically. He assumed she was emphasizing a lack of trust.  
It would not make sense for him to tamper with just one of the bottles if he wanted to drug her.  
He broke open the seal for her.  
_Look at you, helping me… Just because you have both your hands.  
_  
Zizi really wished she could swallow the bitterness that rose like bile. She tensed and it would have been imperceptible to most, not to Jared.  
“Thank you.”  
Her words were too abrasive, to hold the gratitude they were meant to.  
Jared narrowed his eyes, he was good at reading people, but Zizi was not even trying to make it difficult. What Jared lacked was access and information, to figure out the why.  
In the spirit of trying to inspire trust yet again, Jared shrugged, opened the option he had recommended and took a swig. The sweet freshness was welcome. It quelled the odd queasiness he had not bothered to recognize until it was gone.  
“Ezekiel has been arrested on some charges; he will not be returning.”  
“So, what happens now, am I _free_?”  
She asked with an acidic emphasis, like she was challenging him to make a promise he could not possibly keep.  
He did not.  
“That depends on where he found you... Zizi.”  
“Found me? I was… traded… for my own life. If that makes any sense.”  
_It doesn’t._  
A sharp inhale followed her words. It was difficult to make heads or tails out of that, but it did not sound good. He tried to prompt her for a less vague explanation.  
“Traded for your life?”  
Jared repeated, he hoped she would offer more clarity so he had something concrete to proceed with.   
  
The more she looked at his face, the harder it became for her to not blame him for everything.  
_Traded for my life, a life that did not belong to me anymore… because of you!_  
He knew he was not really the enemy, not then and not anymore, but that just made it all the more difficult to handle. He got to be the good guy who was doing his job, she had to live with the damn fallout. She shook her head with an urgency and resorted to disjointedly spewing her lyrics again.  
_Empty_ returned to her lips again. She rapped softly, like it was a mantra. It was iconic enough to be.  
  
_“Empty… promises, empty threats…, empty lies and empty beds.”  
_Zizi used lines she had penned a long time ago, like a serenade.  
The words sent a jolt of disquiet within Jared.  
Empty, by _Ritonix._  
It was a long time ago that he was ordered to look for that enigmatic artist and his involvement in the chase had not ended well. He did not expect that name or these verses to haunt him today.  
Jared sat paralyzed. He stared at the floor resolutely focusing the fibre of the carpet, which was red and not green. Which was soft and not abrasive.  
Letting that solid red colour stand like a wall between the memories that sought to invade.  
_It was a long time ago! I am fine. I’m fine now. And I knew the risks then.  
_Briefly, her eyes snapped open, they held within them accusation that she failed to supress.  
She waved the stump of her right hand in his face.  
“That bullet changed everything! That bullet changed EVERYTHING.”  
Jared leaned away from her on instinct, he was bewildered. His subconscious learned something though, something clicked in the back of his head.  
  
~~~  
_“Do you have a clear shot, Knight?”  
“Yes sir.”  
His gun was aimed at the masked artists’ head.  
“Take it. One dead should kill the spirit of the rest.”  
The crowd watched the confrontation, there were too many eyes on him.  
He lowered the gun, just a little.  
BANG._

_The victim was soon buried in a thicket of angry people.  
“I missed, sir. Situation is hostile, we’re outnumbered.”  
“Damn it, Knight. Get your team the fuck out of there.”   
~~~_  
  
_“Break your mind, break your soul, break your body, to make you whole.”  
_She went on. It felt merciless to Jared, but she had no idea what the lyrics were doing to him.  
She did not know that he had been brought to his knees for that shot… and worse.  
Jared resisted the urge to cover his ears and beg her to stop. Instead, he grit his teeth and folded his arms. He sat there, practicing denial as he watched her. She rocked to her own words, like a shattering star.  
  
There were so many dissenters who had claimed they were the legendary artist. Many had lost parts of themselves too. This could just be a coincidence.  
It could not be. It could not actually be her. And even if it was her…  
_I did pay heavily for that bullet too!  
_Indignation had become a recurring theme recently. Perhaps a part of him was finally tired of paying for things he _had_ to do.  
  
Jared grappled with the forbidding memories again and tried to focus on keeping his breaths spaced and even. Was this just some cruel ploy? Some last-laugh game that Ezekiel was playing to torment him? Nikolai had buried everything related to that incident the best he could, but Ezekiel did always have special access. Maybe he found out what the Ritonix fans and crew did to Jared as retaliation for that shot… Now, he wanted to know. He _needed_ to know. And for that he would need his own clearance. He also _really_ needed Zizi to stop whispering the rap…  
A door opened and closed somewhere in the house. The sound toppled Jared back to reality yet again and it broke the grim tension of the moment. Tariq returned with a wheelchair. Zizi was still in a trance. Her eyes were screwed shut. She rocked and rapped with an insistence, through lips that barely opened. And Jared looked like he had seen a ghost.  
_I thought you had this handled, Jared.  
_  
“What the fuck happened here?”  
“We need to get her looked at…”  
Jared replied, collecting himself quickly as he got to his feet.  
“Nova is the only option if we want to avoid exposure. Do you think that’ll be okay?”  
Tariq asked uneasily, they were both out of their depths.  
It was unlikely that Zizi did not harbour at least some ill-will towards the medic if she was a subject of experimentation with that serum.  
Jared was rummaging through the canvas pockets of the wheelchair, most of them came equipped with medical supplies, including tranquilizers. He swiftly fixed up the needle.  
_I need… her to stop and we need to get her out of here._  
  
He rarely acted in total selfish interest, today was no exception. She looked like she needed to calm down and he knew if the verses continued, they’d rip through him eventually. And that would hamper his ability to remain professional.   
Tariq wanted to protest but did not and Jared made a decision.  
“It’s the safest… fastest option.”  
Zizi did not open her eyes till she was already being injected with the tranquilizer. Emerald eyes drilled into Jared, with hatred and fear, before her vision blurred.  
Tariq hoisted Zizi’s limp form into the wheelchair and strapped her in to keep her from wobbling. Jared sent a message to Nova.  
  


> To Novara: Where are you?

Jared had made a mental note of Nova’s things in Ezekiel’s house, just because they stuck out and reminded him that she had to live with him. On their way out, he whipped the sleek, black velvet coat off the hanger and threw it over Zizi in a slightly unceremonious manner. His actions were plagued by a hefty weariness.  
Tariq took a moment to wordlessly correct the folds of the fabric so it covered Zizi evenly.

> To Jared Knight: I’m with Akira… I told her everything. She is okay. I’m okay too. :)

Novara had the tendency to include smileys in her text messages, even when she decidedly was not smiling. Grief and relief had reduced her to sobs. Novara had invited herself into Akira’s room on the pretext of watching a movie. It had not taken her long to simply, spill.  
Akira now knew more than Jared did. She knew about Zizi and she knew what Vivi-Anna, Tariq and Nova did to Ezekiel to free her. 

“It’s okay… It’s okay...”  
Akira’s voice was soft, she cradled Nova’s head against her shoulder. They were both in Aki’s bed and she hoped for the magic of covers to make things better… Even temporarily, like they had last night for her and Jared. She felt the weight of guilt, a lot of things happened because she made the decision to defect. However, things had gotten so unrealistically out of hand, at this point there was no way she, or anyone else could have predicted all these outcomes. So, after having plummeted to what she believed to be rock-bottom, Akira tried to rally.  
_Focus on the silver-linings. Focus on the silver-linings.  
_Shit hit the fan, but Ezekiel was imprisoned, Jared was offered SiC and Zizi had been rescued.  
Maybe it was time for things to get better. And she needed to pull herself together, so she could be there for Novara, for Tariq and for Jared.  
_“They’d eat a bullet for you.”_  
She was grateful that they did not have to. They had suffered too… And they had been there for her.  
  
“Do you think she’ll ever forgive me? Ever… not hate me?”  
Nova didn’t look up as she spoke.  
Akira could not make promises for Zizi. She chewed on her lower lip.  
“Time heals everything, right Nova…? Or you do…”  
She tried to lighten the mood.  
Nova half-sobbed and half-giggled against her friend.  
Akira joined her in the half-hearted chuckle.  
The sounds faded, the screen in front of them continued to mutter something unintelligibly. Akira spoke over it,  
“I think I want to meet her.”  
Nova received a notification on cue.

> Jared Knight: Stay there, I am bringing Zizi over.

The CommCube traced Nova’s gesticulating fingers as they danced in the air, typing on a keyboard that her SmartEye lens allowed only her to see. She sniffled and replied to the text with a monosyllabic confirmation.

> To Jared Knight: Ok! :)

“You might be in luck… They’re coming here.”   
Nova could not help but sound nervous. Akira read her tone with ease.   
“It’ll be fine…”  
She reassured.


	8. Trust.

Cricket chirps.   
Soft footsteps and the whir of the wheels. The sloshing of the liquid in the bottle that sat in the cupholder of the wheelchair and the jostle of the fabric.  
A Q.B. uniform, a splayed black coat hugging a figure on a wheelchair and a black tracksuit moved in choreographed harmony.  
Like shadows that dissolved in the still darkness of night. Slinking between the buildings, on the empty, balmy roads that were laid out like grids.   
Zizi rode the remotely operated chair with tranquilized silence.   
She looked as restless as Jared felt. Their encounter had unearthed something that reared its ugly head from the past. A hungry monster, that sapped their peace and energy alike.   
It made everything feel uncomfortably personal and Jared was left feeling vulnerable.   
Akira’s prodding earlier that day did not help. And he found himself wishing now that Novara had been anywhere else but with her.   
Tariq’s relatively neutral presence was welcome, they did not ask each other for elucidations. The men had let the moment stir them into a wordless acceptance. Soon they were ascending the elevator of the living quarters for the trainee BioHackers.  
  
There was a soft rap on the door.   
Akira locked eyes with Nova, before she slid off the bed to answer. She immediately had to flatten herself against the wall to give way as the men pooled in after the wheelchair. She had only dealt with patients, who were amputees. From the way Zizi rolled into her life, it already felt like she was going to be more than that.  
Akira quickly realised she could only be helpful by staying out of the way.   
A part of Nova was relieved that Zizi was unconscious as her limp body was lifted to the bed.   
Nova busied herself with the MedScan feature of her CommCube.  
“I’m going to need some things from the hospital wing…”  
“I’ll get them.”  
Akira was eager. She wanted to be useful and she had enough experience in the field to manage such a simple task. Nova quickly listed what she needed.   
“I’ll go with Shira…”   
Jared offered, speaking of her, but not to her. He sought a reason to not be in the room because he did not want to make matters worse for Zizi when the tranquilizer wore off… _And for himself._ The woman was likely to have enough on her plate with just Nova.   
“I don’t need your help.”   
Akira responded sharply.   
  
Jared’s brief disappearance after he abruptly left their conversation on the pretext of getting food left her prickly. The time he took in getting back was warranted, given the circumstance, but she still could not reconcile with the fact that he did not find a single moment to let her know or give her a heads-up. Instead, he chose to just go AWOL.   
Jared did not see the reason for her hostility and bit back the urge to respond in kind.   
“I need to get stuff checked any way... Mind if I come along, Kira?”   
Tariq muttered. It felt like the easiest way to keep things on an even keel. Novara looked stressed as is. He did not really give her a chance to protest and led the way out.   
Akira strode out, wearing her stormy demeanour and offering Jared a side-eye he did not think he deserved.   
\-   
Tariq lightened Akira’s mood as they shared some joy over Ezekiel’s fate. He took pleasure in describing exactly how things transpired. They marvelled over how well Nova handled it.   
“If the serum doesn’t work as intended for whatever reason, I’ll tell whoever asks that I tried some shit, ‘kay?”   
Akira’s question was anything but. It was a declaration. She sifted through the cabinets and drawers for all the things that Nova needed for Zizi. Patches, IVs, NG-Tube, electrolyte solutions… Akira picked up a straitjacket for good measure.   
Tariq would have protested if he had seen her do so.   
He instead, was surreptitiously pocketing a vial of the _advanced shealing serum_. His injured hand had not come out of his pocket at all and he did not let Akira know of it.   
“You were nowhere close to the scene. I was…”   
Their whipping scars were still raw, and they were arguing about who got to take the blame for this situation.   
  
Everything Akira collected was shoved into a sling bag.   
“We’ll see how it all pans out. T… I can carry all this on my own. Get some rest, will you?”   
Tariq looked haggard. After everything with Ezekiel and being the one who found Zizi, she could see why. These were not the kind of battles he fought.   
Akira implored him to take some time for himself. And this was without her knowing about his injuries.  
“I-”  
She was quick to interrupt him.   
“Y’know you’re going to wear yourself out and eventually make a mess of everything…”   
They knew she was only half-joking; it was a quality the two of them shared, among others.   
He really was out of his depth. His presence would not hinder, but it would not aid either.   
With some reluctance he agreed and promised to check back on all of them later.   
“Don’t worry about it.”  
Akira sought some solace in being the one reassuring her friends today.   
_I can do this; I can be there for them too._   
===  
The three pairs of eyes were trained onto Zizi after she had been adequately replenished with fluids. They watched as her limbs slowly came to life. Slowly and barely as the tranquilizer finally wore off.   
Jared considered bolting out of the room. Instead, he waited by the door, away from Zizi’s immediate field of view.   
Akira on the other hand stood beside where the woman lay, crowding her a little. Nova sat on the other side of the bed.   
“Hi Zizi… I’m Akira… How’re you feeling?”  
Jared and Nova let her take the lead.   
  
_Another new person._  
The voice sounded friendly enough, Zizi did not open her eyes yet. She felt a mattress under her. Her head was cradled by a pillow. Such simple luxuries… She found herself relishing them with an embarrassing amount of contentment.   
  
“Sorry about the slight mess… by the way.”  
Akira added and averted her gaze briefly, afraid that if it lingered too long on Zizi, she might betray sympathy in a manner that came off as pity. She unnecessarily fussed over folding a towel that was drying on her chair. There was nothing else there. Just the sheets on the bed were sprawled, and the cabinets of the kitchen were still slightly ajar.   
  
Zizi wasn’t going to notice those things anyway. She was still addled by whatever she had been injected with. Her movements were slow, but she turned to scan the room with narrowed eyes.   
Her eyes widened instantly when they fell upon Nova, whose eyes were still bloodshot and swollen from the tears she had shed.   
Zizi drew a ragged breath and the flash of fear in her expressions dissolved into a resignation.  
 _I know Nova meant well and I know Ezekiel didn’t._   
“Can I talk to you?”  
Zizi’s voice was barely a whisper.   
  
Akira missed Zizi’s request.   
“Should I brew us some tea? I’ve got some… generic green, jasmine… mint… chamo-”  
Jared did not. He tried too hard to tune it out that it only resulted in him being more attuned to it.   
_At least she isn’t rapping anymore._   
So he interrupted her.   
“I think Zizi wanted a moment with Nova.”   
Akira was already filling the kettle. She set it down and put her hands on her hip lazily.   
“They’re both here, right? I’m ju-”  
“Alone.”   
She narrowed and squared off with Jared.   
“And you think that’s a good id-”  
He cut her off again. His tone was slightly impatient.   
“They’ve spent time together already…”  
Jared did _not_ expect to get into the thick of things with Akira right now.   
He could not see that she was trying to normalise things in her own way. That they were simply not in agreement about how things should proceed.   
Aki drew a deep breath.   
_If you cut me off one more goddamn time…_  
She did not think it through when she decided to drag Zizi into this.   
“I think she can tell us that herself…”  
“Shi- Akira!”   
Jared exclaimed, completely flabbergasted with Akira’s behaviour. She certainly was not being prudent, but he too was not thinking clearly.   
Akira raised her eyebrows in an unspoken and pettish question.   
_What?  
  
_ Zizi purposely kept her gaze off the source of Jared’s voice. It was less familiar to her than his face; less likely to trigger her slip into rap mode again. A part of her feared it may lead to tranquilization again. As easy as it was to slip into nothingness, she wanted to enjoy her autonomy for what it was worth. She could hear the famous Red Knight trying so hard to act professionally while Akira approached the matter more on instinct. The intimacy between _them_ was hard to miss and the friction was palpable.   
  
Neither of them was wrong. The exchange was like a tennis match, till she was dragged into it.   
And Zizi intervened like an umpire would. She was not too reluctant to ask for what she wanted. The world would have crushed her a long time ago if she had chosen silence.   
“I would like to talk to Nova - alone…”  
She did not hesitate to make her preference known. Choices had been a rarer luxury in captivity. Now that she was out, she lapped at every chance she got to exert her will.   
Her voice was clear, but soft, it demanded attention in a way that a louder voice never could.   
They were forced to fall silent to give her a chance to speak.   
And Akira did have the grace to do that, even though she was fuming.   
She deliberately avoided looking at any of them. There was a flash of an inexplicable venom and deep mortification in her eyes, best directed towards the panel of the induction stove.   
“If that’s okay with you…”  
Zizi addressed Nova this time.   
  
Akira did not know those words were not directed at her at all and managed a weak nod as she set her tea box aside.   
Novara recognized the question was for her and apprehensively nodded too, much more eagerly, but did not say anything given Akira’s assumption. Her friend was feeling prickly and Nova did not want to make matters worse. Technically, this was Akira’s room and they were all taking a lot of liberties intruding this way. Nova believed in Akira’s inherent generosity.   
Akira was now resolutely quiet and chewed on the inside of her mouth. For once she understood why Jared chose silence sometimes.   
  
It was he who filled it, to reassure the victim in the room.   
“I think it is brave that Zizi would like to spend some time with Novara after everything…”  
And accidentally diminishing the _other_ victim in the room by adding words addressed to her.   
“ _You_ should know how difficult that is… and how much courage it probably takes...”  
Jared had not expected this to be as much of a struggle.   
Akira’s head hung for a moment. Her body lost something, like bones, because her petite frame slouched. In a motion akin to slithering, she dragged herself out of her own room, muttering.   
“Right… Well, excuse me, then.”  
Jared followed and closed the door behind him, leaving Novara and Zizi alone.   
He wanted to be within earshot and reach. Akira’s concern was a consequence worth considering.   
He did not tell her that though, perhaps he should have.  
He lingered in the corridor.   
Akira did not. It was her turn to take a solitary walk.   
And he let her go.   
\-   
Nova looked a little apologetic, not for her friends’ behaviour per se, she knew that they too had been through a lot, but given that Zizi didn’t have any context, it was probably uncomfortable for her to witness.   
“Don’t worry… There is… That’s just Jared and Akira.”   
The medic’s voice was soft. And she casually broke the illusion Jared had tried to create. Nova did not see the reason to build walls around the woman. They had been through so much together.   
Zizi was not uncomfortable in the least. She was left amused.   
“Don’t worry… I’ve seen much worse.”   
Nova shuffled in place. Her knees sinking in and out of the mattress.   
“I- I’m so sorry… Z, I-”   
A choked back sob, a stifled sniffle and a shaky breath.   
“-I never meant for any of this… For...”  
  
“I know."  
Zizi replied simply.   
Nova gulped and looked at her with wide sorrowful eyes.   
_She did?_   
She blinked away the tears.  
“I could kinda see you hated it… I saw past his shit eventually and… I’m sorry too.”  
Zizi did sound apologetic herself. She wanted this time with Nova, just to let the poor BioHacker know, that Ezekiel did not win. That he did not succeed in villainizing Nova.   
Nova wrapped her arms around herself, shaking her head slowly.   
“You… you shouldn’t have to be.”   
“I _did_ try and kill you.”   
Zizi thought she could handle this heart-to-heart with ease. She could not. She resisted the urge to break into a rap again and gently massaged the stub of her arm as it began tingling. It had been a tough few month, among the worse of Zizi’s life at least in terms of raw, physical suffering. To be torn up repeatedly, one way or another and painfully be put back together.   
But she had lost everything before and she held on. She could do it again. She would.   
  
Nova’s reassurance was bland and honest, and she noticed Zizi’s discomfort.   
“I’d want to kill me too, in that… situation. Are you ok? Can I get you something?”  
“No… I’ll be fine… He called you Supernova...That was never a compliment, was it?”   
That derogatory name.   
A darkness found its way into Nova’s being and she shook her head with an added vehemence.  
But it was not his voice; it did not grate against her being.   
“No… No, it was not. But it is nothing compared to what you, to what you and Ge-”  
She could not find the nerve to say his name. The name that no one would use again, not for him. There was no one left to call.   
  
Zizi had come to terms with losing the man she temporarily shared that hidden room with.   
Death was not uncommon in the Pit.   
Nova had not. She could not bury what happened, like Ezekiel presumably buried Genzo.   
_Did he even bury Genzo?_  
The thought chilled her.   
  
Ezekiel had thrown Genzo to the wolves before he was ready, before Nova’s serum had made him whole. Zizi was made to watch the fight where he was taken down. He was not brought back to the hidden room that night. Nova did not know about Bloody Blitz – The Pit of Doom…   
So, when she inquired about Genzo, Ezekiel simply stated that he was gone, and that she was responsible for it, for not fixing him well enough. And that day Zizi lost the little freedom she had.  
As did Nova who was pinned like a butterfly, under the weight of the life she could not save.   
And the life she now had to – _Mine!  
_ Zizi thought, before Ezekiel’s voice rang in her head. _  
“No more going to the Bloody Blitz till Nova has perfected the serum…”_   
From that day onwards, the pain she received had been methodical and at Eze’s hands. It was solely for the purpose of testing the serum. She was reduced to nothing but a lab rat.   
_At least she always came through. I do owe my life to her.  
  
_ Nova finally understood what Akira meant when she compared degrees of suffering.   
Pain was pain. But Zizi had had it so much worse. Nova sidled closer to her, tentatively.   
Zizi did not mind, she was quite accustomed to Nova’s presence in her private space.  
It was refreshing to see her softer side, one that was not governed by the strings Eze pulled.   
Strings he did not want Zizi to see, but she had.   
“You did the best you could for Genzo…”  
These were not empty words. Their fingers found each other. The skin on the back of their hands sat in such stark contrast, their palms less so.   
Nova knew Zizi’s anatomy too well, to not know anything about her as a person. It felt unfair and wrong. Her soft mutter carried a whine attesting to that.   
“He, he never quite told me where he… where he found you both…”   
“What did he tell you?”   
The counter question sounded a little sharp.   
  
Nova clammed up a little, her words were a jumble, just like his answers had been, if he ever indulged her questions to begin with. She had to stop asking when it irritated him enough to make matters worse for Zizi.   
“From, prisoners of war, to criminals, to street rats… drug addicts…”   
He deliberately gave enough answers, for Nova to never know which one was true or if all of them were. He played with her, till it was amusing. Till he could revel in the friction between the women.   
She wanted Zizi to have the whole truth as much of it as she could offer. There was an insistence in the way she spoke.   
“He made me believe you were dangerous, like you were… you were both on death row. That is why we didn’t mourn G-”   
She shortened the name to a letter, so it didn’t keep getting caught in her throat.   
“-because Eze said, he didn’t deserve it. But he did! He deserved it!”   
Nova forgotten to breathe between the slurry of her words, now she gasped in short, exhausted sounds.   
“Everyone does. And I did not believe him, but…”   
She looked at Zizi pointedly now. Unflinchingly, fearlessly. She wanted her to know, no matter how dark her past truly was… Nova didn’t think that it was okay for her to suffer the way she had.   
“Even if any of what he said was… is true… Nothing made- nothing makes what I did okay… What he made me do… what he made me do.”   
  
She switched between talking about it like it was something in the past, because her hope reminded her that it was. But her grief anchored the pain, Zizi’s and hers to the present.   
She licked her lips. She finally stopped; the woman had not expected to spiral into this conversation.   
Nova had poured all this out, for the second time today. It felt easier to divulge this time around, because she had gathered her thoughts while talking to Akira.   
  
Zizi let her, in silence, clutching onto the medic’s hand gently. It truly was inspiring to finally meet the real Novara.   
_I am surprised the world has not chewed you up and spit you out, Novara. You must be doing something very right.  
_ Empathetic, empowered and brilliant.   
“All the things he said were somewhat true… I guess. Genzo and I were drawn against each other in the pit… and we fight to knock-out or kill… So…”  
Zizi licked her dry lips.   
Nova immediately reached for the bottle of water, she helped Zizi sit up enough to sip from it.   
She gathered the will to go on.  
“He found us on the brink of death… and promised to save us, but only if he could keep us for himself.”   
  
Nova’s skin crawled. But she should have figured. Especially recently after everything else Ezekiel had done, so blatantly, with such little regard for the pain he caused.   
“How- from?”  
Zizi closed her eyes again, the lyrics of her rap rose in her throat. Nova was familiar with Ritonix’s entire discography – Zizi had screamed her way through the songs on every encounter with Nova, the needle and the syringe full of the serum. Zizi did not want to trigger the medic. She wanted her to know that she felt safe now. Zizi also did not want to answer the question.   
She pursed her lips.  
She thought of Jeremy. He only wanted to save her… To save them. He had been kind; she did not want to implicate him in this either. He would most likely end up taking the fall for it all. He would be the likely scapegoat, because Bloody Blitz was an intricate system. It ran too deep and what could a handful of agents possibly do to fight it. Zizi did not want the people who were trying to help her, to get entangled with that monster.  
  
Upon noticing the doubt and fear flit across Zizi’s face, Novara felt rankled. This was betrayed in the way she swayed a little.   
“It’s ok… It’s ok.”  
Nova murmured, to Zizi and to herself. Genzo and Zizi had been brought to her with severe injuries. The first time she helped them, it was out of desperation. They had just been her patients and Ezekiel had convinced her that using the serum would be mercy.   
And then it became a habit.   
Nova had questions then and she had questions now, but she did not get a chance to ask them.  
Zizi had already shared enough and she had a question of her own, one she could not ask Tariq… or worse, Jared. She could not allow herself to feel this vulnerable around them. But Nova had already seen her at her worse.   
  
She massaged her right arm with more vigour now as she arrived at an unnerving realisation.   
“…Nova, what exactly happens to me now?”   
All this time, Zizi had leashed the fear that leapt from the uncertainty of the situation.   
And now the leash broke.   
“I- You… It will never-”   
She closed her eyes and cleared her throat. Nova could not afford any hesitation marring what she wanted to say. Despite the ambiguity of the future, she would not let Zizi suffer again.   
Her eyes opened with her usual fierce resolve.   
“You will never be traded again or belong to anyone again like that. That’s for sure.”   
There it was again, that conviction, that felt so true that reality crumbled against it.   
Her radiant hope did not convince Zizi entirely, but the Fighter smiled weakly.   
  
Nova intended to do whatever it took, to keep her promise. She could tell that there were more sorrowful secrets buried in the woman’s past and she did not want to try disinterring them.   
Not right now.   
Zizi did not need to relive any more horrors. It would not help recover and that was of paramount importance.   
“And we don’t need to talk about everything right away… You need to rest, and I need to run some more tests… if that’s ok.”  
Zizi quickly slid lower into the bed, craving the comfort more than she was willing to admit. Her body had not felt the embrace of soft covers and a mattress for far too long.   
“For the last few days, I thought Ezekiel forgot me and that felt like a blessing… Dying in that cell. This- This feels like a miracle…” she closed her eyes and surrendered herself to Nova’s administrations, this time willingly and trustingly.   
Nova used the MediScan feature on her CommCube and recorded the vitals and other measures again. And stayed with Zizi till the woman fell asleep.


	9. Moving Forward.

Akira’s walk had been shorter than she had anticipated. It was warmer inside than outside.  
She liked it, but as she neared her room and noticed the figure slumped by her door in the distance and he made everything feel a little stifling and sticky. Her black track pants rustled as she crouched and then sat against the wall by the threshold to her room. Two silicone ziplock bags lay in her lap.  
Jared sat on the other side of the sleek frame. Like a guard dog.  
  
The two occupied the stark, long hallway, lined with doors. They did not look at each other.   
And they could only speak in whispers, lest some rankled trainee BioHacker stuck their head out of their room to try and find out what all the racket in the hallway was about. She opened one of the bags. The aroma of spiced fried rice filled the air.  
“Sorry, I forgot about the food...”  
Perhaps it was easier to break a silence with a whisper, for Jared, maybe he was just hungry.  
He apologized for something Akira did not think warranted one, while avoiding the things she did need explanations for.  
“It’s fine… Here…”  
She sighed and passed the other bag over to him and a disposable pair of recyclable chopsticks along with it.  
  
He did apologize for _something_ , because the air hung so thickly between them, it felt like he needed to. He could sense that the lack of food was not really the appropriate reason. But at the same time, everything else felt like something he expected Akira to understand. Things got out of hand and he was duty-bound to help in any way he could. She sniffed at the food, there was something comforting about it.  
Akira closed her eyes.  
She had not seen what Tariq and Jared had. Akira only knew of Zizi’s suffering through Novara’s accounts. Zizi remained a mystery. A victim who had suffered, yes, but still a mystery.  
“What do we know about her? About Zizi?”  
She asked softly, after swallowing her first bite. Food did help blunt the sharpness with which she had been approaching everything.  
“Not enough… But I intend to find out.”  
He admitted. He sounded driven and cryptic.  
  
Akira was too exhausted to push for more. A part of her craved her bed, but anything she considered asking for, felt like a privilege.  
 _I could just sneak in and use my couch…_  
Everything sounded selfish.  
The corridor was eerie. It was probably past midnight, she checked her SmartEye.  
It was. She gave up.   
“I’m going to Tariq’s. I’m… I’m tired.”  
Akira finally announced.  
Jared could not find a reason to contest this. He did not hold it against her either. And she was not seeking his permission, neither did she have to.  
“... Do you think they’re asleep and it’s safe for you to come along?”  
“I’ll stay here.”  
Akira could not find a reason to contest either and stifled the mulish protest.  
\-   
The chopsticks were stowed in the empty ziplock packet. It lay beside Jared, who was dozing, upright with his head against the wall.  
Finally, the door clicked behind him.  
Nova’s eyes were still puffy, dark circles were stark against her pale skin. 

“Jared… I think… I think Zizi comes from some sort of an organized system...”  
She scooched by him.  
They had conversed with the bare minimums enough times for him to instantly understand the implication. He would need to know a little more, but the corridor was certainly not the right place for it. Nova was trained enough to be trusted with her instinct, plus, she certainly knew details that Jared did not, given her shared past with Zizi.  
  
He allegedly had his own past with her too, it left him feeling as involved and responsible as Nova did. The purpose gave him a new direction.  
“Do you know enough? Can we find out more from her?”  
“ _Not_ from her, Jared please… She is not ready. She needs to heal, like _really_ heal.”  
He nodded. He knew Nova struggled to not get involved and attached. He understood her need and want to protect Zizi, he wanted to respect it. This was a special circumstance after all.  
There had to be other ways. But they would require a certain clearance. Jared made up his mind.  
“Stay with her, Nova. I need to speak to someone.”  
Nova’s eyes didn’t betray any fear of consequence, she was already at the door, ready to go back inside. But he reassured her anyway,  
“And no, you won’t be going down for anything.” 

-  
  
“But I need clearance _and_ you will have to trust me through my absolute discretion, will you?”  
Cepheus hummed as he considered Jared’s demands.  
“That is all you want, to be able to assemble your team and tackle some crime activity you have come across? Nothing else…?”  
He left the implication of his previous offer in his loaded question.  
“I want nothing to do with Ezekiel, Look, he’ll get his justice within the judiciary system, right? I just want permission to run this one operation on my terms without interference from you or anyone else. Can I have that, or not?”  
He repeated his terms, there was a stubborn edge to his voice, that Cepheus admired, that and the younger man’s moral stand.   
“Is there anything else?”  
“Till I’m not done with my mission, can we keep this transition under wraps?”  
  
Jared was uncertain that this request would be granted. He sensed that they wanted to replace Ezekiel as a person as much as they would want to boast of a new figure head. This showed in the way he asked.  
Cepheus felt generous and he assumed that it was a way for the Knight to feel like he had earned the spot.  
“Done. Send the list of your desired members for the team to Celaeno. Welcome to Q.B. I wish you success in your mission, and soon, so that I finally get to give Scarlett a call! ”  
The Commander replied with a childish guffaw, before Jared could respond, he heard a tone that signified the disconnect.  
Within moments, he received certain credentials within his CommCube and SmartEye.  
He sent his list.

> Secondary Clearance for:  
> Tariq Meissa  
> Novara Ricci  
> Vivianne Delacroix  
> Tertiary Clearance: TBD. As per requirement.

He was surprised at the efficiency with which he received Celaeno’s confirmation.   
  
-  
Tariq spit out the cloth he’d been biting to muffle his groans.  
 _Please Nova, just make this a little more painless…_  
He whisked the empty syringe and _‘advanced-shealing-serum’_ vial under the couch. He wasn’t sure if he had injected his hand with it correctly. But it looked and felt much better than before. The swelling and bruising was almost gone. Internally though, things still hurt, as he realised when he gripped the pillow, he winced and then grumbled.  
Tariq’s legs hung out awkwardly on the other side of the couch. He rolled onto his back uncomfortably and then sat up.   
He tossed the cushion onto his bed, aiming for the person curled in the middle, largely disrespecting the vastness of the mattress.  
“You’re smaller and you should have taken the damn couch.”  
  
Akira chucked the pillow back and spoke into the one over her head.  
“Don’t let chivalry die… fool, besides I really… Just wanted space to roll around.”  
Rest always made her feel better. It was a pity that sleep rarely visited her. A notification broke his thoughts that he was stringing into an appropriate repartee. He had received a rather official looking correspondence from Jared Knight.  
He sat up.  
“Hey, Kira… I have the morning off and-”  
“Good for you. Shut up and let me-”  
She sounded drowsy, but already awake.  
“-And I think your man is my new boss.”  
He sounded just a tad crestfallen, but only momentarily. It was not too surprising for Q.B. to whisk Jared up while they had the chance.  
She sat up like a springboard, then relaxed into the bedpost dully.  
  
“Yeah… he told me Cepheus offered him SiC. He didn’t seem so ready to take it when we talked about it though…”  
She said ruefully.  
He let Akira brood when she needed to, and it did not stop him from carrying on.  
“He got a small team together to crack Zizi’s case, I think. He’s been sparing with the details, but we’re meeting later today.”  
Her eyes brightened momentarily.  
“Oh! Am I on-”  
She cut herself off.   
_Of course not. That would need qualification, license and credentials…  
_ Her gaze met Tariq’s, he knew what she was thinking.   
“All you gotta do is finish your damn thesis and the few screening tests.”

He did not mean to diminish the work that would take in general but did want to let her know he thought it would not be a big deal for someone like her.  
  
She huffed softly.  
“Well… You’ll keep me in the loop right…?”  
She barely managed to sound hopeful.  
He got off the couch to go sit on the corner of his bed.  
“Only if you can make contact when we spar next…”  
“Pfft. Low bar. Get ready...”  
She was about to leap at him playfully, just to try catch him off guard and tackle him off the bed. But a notification of her own made her stop.   
This was a small mercy, at least he didn’t leave her entirely out of the loop.  
 _I’m a little low on the priorities there, though._  
That did make sense… Objectively.

> Red: Took SiC. Got a team together to investigate Zizi’s situation. You have the next week off. Asked for a suite… Nothing too fancy, but can you and Nova move in there with Zizi? Can’t hand her off yet. I’ll check in periodically.

It was too curt for her liking. He already sounded _busy._  
 _It is fine. He_ is _busy and this is a good thing. You wanted this for him too, right?  
_ She wanted all of that to be true and could not understand why it did not feel that way. Akira was not sure if this was some sort of a consolation prize or if he really needed her help. Either way, she could not see herself denying the request.   
She knew would miss living with him… Her mind had jumped to a very different reality when she heard he had taken SiC.

> To Red: Congrats… I guess and sure, I’ll move in with Nova and Zizi.

She replied and sighed, willing herself to grin again.  
“I’ll be living on the floor above yours now, _Reeek_ … So, you better be ready all the time.”   
She tried to sound light and teased Tariq with a nickname she knew he hated.  
“Don’t call me that!”  
-

Moving from one room to another was no grand task. She left most of her things in her own quarters and only took the essentials to Jared’s suite, the one he would _not_ be occupying.  
Just a small bag. Her training uniform, some clothes, her BioHacker equipment…   
Her bare feet enjoyed the texture and warmth of the wood-panelled floor as she ambled within the house. The kitchen was stocked, and it was set up a little like a bar.  
The rectangular dining table was considerably bigger than her tiny circular one.  
A liquor cabinet graced one side of the living room and a small fireplace sat on the other. Armchairs facing it made a comforting nook of their own. It had three rooms and two, better equipped, bathrooms. She peered into one in the master bedroom and twittered softly.  
“I always did want a hot-tub…”  
Trainees were only afforded shower cabinets.  
She spoke mostly to herself, but Nova and Zizi were within earshot.  
  
Zizi was bundled up on her automated wheelchair, looking much brighter than she had last night. The controls were simple enough and allowed her to navigate the house at her own pace.   
Akira could glean joy from the small upgrades, but Jared’s absence was palpable. Especially, because he would not have noticed any of these things.  
Nova was exploring too, but slower and quietly. She followed Akira and tried not to let her tiredness show. When she noticed the crisp bedcovers on the large bed in the master bedroom, she could not help but flop onto it. It was starkly different in design than Ezekiel’s waterbed. And she thought she just wanted to know what it felt like.  
But within moments, she was lost in a dreamless sleep.  
Akira threw a duvet onto her, before slinking into the other room.  
  
It was the smaller guest room.  
“I guess I’m taking this one,” she announced and left her bag by the single bed, staking claim.  
She stepped out to face the woman in the wheelchair.  
“You… you’re okay sharing the room with Nova, right?”  
“Yep.”  
She had spent too much time alone in that tiny cell. The bustle of sharing a room… a comfortable room, sparked a certain excitement.  
Plus, Nova was familiar and without Eze’s shadow looming behind her, she was helpful but not intrusively so. She did have this protective air around her, Zizi did not mind it so much, it was a welcome change to have someone feel that way about her. It reminded her a little of Jeremy.  
In fact, she could not bring herself to admit how nice it was to have someone take care of her, out of fear that it may not last.  
 _Been me against the world for too long…  
_  
Akira sauntered into the third and final room with a mild intrigue.  
It had a padded floor and housed some training equipment… Including the _Mu ren Zhuang_.  
Zizi pulled up at the threshold, not wanting to roll onto the padded floor.  
“All this is-”  
“Jared’s or for him anyways…”  
Akira responded to the question she assumed Zizi was going to ask with the answer that was already in her thoughts and so, on her lips.  
Zizi gave her space to leave the room, she appraised Akira with weary interest. They spent most of the day in silence.   
  
Nova had gotten up just in time for the meeting Jared had called.  
Akira tried not to pout about not being included she knew it was her own fault.  
-  
  
Vivi sat in one chair and had her feet up on another.  
Conference tables were so… long. Her eyes traced it from end to end. There were just three other people in the room. The space between them felt like a waste.  
T sat across her, and Nova sat at the head. Jared paced behind Nova and sometimes around the whole table, it was driving Vivi crazy. Her eyes were soon following him like a target, and he moved too unpredictably.   
“We have to work within certain constraints.”  
“Yeah… We’re not dragging Zizi into this extensively.”  
Nova interrupted Jared.  
He did not mind. Both he and Tariq agreed with Nova’s suggestions.   
“We can just _ask_ Eze for more…”  
Vivi’s voice was a sweet trill.  
“That’s the other thing, we’re not using Ezekiel either, because I do not want any of us…”  
He looked at Tariq pointedly, who did not contest the accusation in the SiC’s gaze.  
“...Going too far, because let’s face it, it would be or could get, very personal.”  
“Not exactly.”  
Vivi insisted but did not really make it a point of contention, as Jared went on.  
This was a matter of principle for him.  
“Irrespective, we are better off piecing things together on our own than relying on that scheming s.o.b. It can’t be that hard to track…”  
Plans were made, and responsibilities were delegated.  
  
Tariq took up the mantle of being the man on the ground. While his militaristic experience trumped his time as an Enforcer, all Q.B. agents were essentially PeaceKeepers, by default. (a.k.a _piecers or peekers,_ depending on their reputation)  
He did still know the lay of the land and offered to scout known gang infested locations to see if he could wheedle information about the human trade.  
  
Vivi had enough experience finding her way into the deeper, darker, well-encrypted depths of The Network. She offered to start there. There was bound to be something related to this... and more.  
  
Nova helped them by trying to put together a loose timeline based on what Zizi had shared and what she knew. She also offered some intel on the kind of company Ezekiel kept. People amidst his high-profile posse that could potentially be involved in an amoral trade such as this one. _  
At least being paraded around in those parties feels meaningful now._  
And she could only wish she had been less blank through them and more attentive.  
  
Nova’s information reminded Jared that he too may be able to piece together Zizi’s life, if what she had shared today was true. Additionally, he knew some rotten folks who had garnered enough wealth during The Supremacy’s reign. People who did not stop till they got what they wanted, whatever it might be.  
So many of them had escaped culpability in this transitory period... Jared would need to rifle through his past. And he knew that would not be easy.  
Once the brief meeting concluded, he quickly excused himself to attend to other matters.  
Vivi merely walked away, without feeling the need to state her intent.  
  
Nova and Tariq headed back to Jared’s suite to check in on Zizi.  
… And Akira. 


	10. Routine.

Akira resolutely busied herself with some attempts to find something she could write her thesis on, that did not have blatant, potentially harmful uses.  
 _Memory scan… nope… modification… even more nope. Emotional read… manipulation nope._  
She sensed that her urge to know everything and conveniently change somethings were reflected keenly in the theories around her neuromodulation.  
It did make desensitizing combatants easier, but also left them vulnerable to being controlled. A lot of people rightly feared the loss of autonomy.  
Any successful techniques in that regard would be revolutionary, a part of her ached for the kind of glory, but she feared the misuse too much.  
 _Idiots like Ezekiel managed to turn the incomplete Advanced Shealing Serum into a damn nightmare… They’ll ruin the world with things like this in a heartbeat.  
_  
Zizi’s presence quiet was a constant distraction.  
A prickly sensation rose on her skin every time she heard the wheels move, approach or fade. Zizi was far more self-sufficient than Akira had imagined, they stayed out of each other’s way, but she felt watched. The more she tried to focus, the more she could not.  
Nova’s return was a welcome distraction.  
Just as Akira thought, Tariq accompanied her and no Jared followed.   
They pointedly did not discuss the contents of the meeting given Zizi’s presence and for a selfish moment Akira resented that. She tried not to dwell on it.  
  
They all settled around the dinner table. Zizi easily adjusted the height of her chair to join in. Nova disappeared into the bathroom to freshen up.  
“I’m ready to take you down, T…”  
Akira challenged, aching for a distraction.  
“Tomorrow? I won’t be much of a challenge today, I have to-”  
“Is it the hand?”  
Zizi interrupted.  
Akira cocked with her own question.  
Tariq held out his hands.  
“I still don’t know what you’re talking about, Zizi. like I said… nothing.”  
He forgot that Zizi was intimately familiar with exactly how his battered state was now… _fine._ He had used the advanced shealing serum and they knew.  
Zizi reached for the hand she had broken; she took it into hers for inspection with a certain authority.  
“That must’ve hurt…”  
Tariq’s smirk just widened, and he shrugged.  
“It did, but I could take it...”  
He sounded proud.  
  
Akira noticed Zizi take Tariq’s hand into hers. Something felt private and Akira felt the urge to vanish. She traced idle circles on the table with her fingers. From the corner of her eyes she saw the tender flutter of Zizi’s fingers over Tariq’s. As someone who did not share skin too readily, she always attributed more intimacy to gestures like these.  
He let Zizi confirm that he was in fact, fine.  
“In all seriousness, I think the serum works better now.”  
He had enough faith in Nova’s brilliance to assume that. Given the iterative process of correction, it probably did not hurt as badly as it had once hurt Zizi. He knew Nova had made some more improvements and changes to it after the nights that followed the whipping.  
Tariq hoped his jovial nature did not come across as something that justified Zizi’s suffering, or glorified it. He just wanted her to know it was not meaningless and good had come of it.  
Though she certainly deserved better.

“You really are crazy, but at least I won’t feel bad the next time I beat you.”  
Zizi challenged, offering a smirk of her own.  
Tariq watched Zizi keenly and carefully.  
He did not accept or deny the proposed contest, but their eyes remained locked.  
He called out to Nova with a question and winked.  
“When are Zizi’s prosthetics arriving?”  
“Should be within the week… Had to shuffle some paperwork around…”  
Nova continued explaining the details of how the prosthetics were being procured, they went largely unheard.  
  
Akira decided to interrupt, driven by some unidentified embarrassment,  
“What exactly happened?”  
Tariq and Zizi relayed what happened in Ezekiel’s hidden room, filling in for one another. Zizi sounded grateful and sheepish, Tariq continued to sound proud.  
“Oh…! Yeah, he could probably take it… I’ve definitely done worse.”  
 _He’s had worse done to him because of me… and he’s done worse to Jared…_  
Tariq’s chuckle filled the space that Akira’s dismissive laughter left, when it died abruptly.  
He nodded with a playful sincerity.  
“That is true. That is true. I took all that well too…”  
Akira smacked his shoulder.  
“Stop being a goddamn show off.”  
  
“Dinner?”  
Novara offered, she was towel drying her platinum curls and already in her jumper and pyjamas.   
“Not if you’re cooking…”  
Akira teased.  
“Oh no, I won’t put you guys through that, I’m just defrosting a premade meal…”  
Nova reassured with a sheepish grin.  
“So why exactly aren’t you up to the challenge, T?”  
Akira had not forgotten that Tariq had turned her down.  
“Because, I’ll have to leave soon… Got to meet Osi at Ear-Splitting Eagle for some work.”  
It was understood that Tariq was visiting the local bartender at the friendly-shady neighbourhood shack, because it had something to do with digging into the Zizi’s situation.  
Akira prudently did not press for details though she wanted to.   
  
There was some idle chatter that followed. It strayed away from the suffering that had cast dark shadows over the recent weeks. And it was engaging enough for Nova to forget about the meal and burn it.  
“Let me whip something up for all of us…”  
Tariq offered and everybody in the room, winced at the way Tariq phrased that. Including Zizi, though she was surprised when the other did too. She imagined asking them about it at a later date, though it felt too intrusive to just bring up on a dinner table, despite their comfort around it.  
Tariq chortled first, Akira joined in and Nova followed with a nervous giggle.  
Soon they were all in splits, laughing with abandon, till they forgot why it was they were so happy.  
  
Laughter was a sound Zizi missed.  
She had no idea what their joke was, but she felt the joy was contagious. A smile stretched her lips.  
Zizi found their friendship endearing. It felt comfortable and she felt honoured, because they didn’t let her feel like an outsider either. She was not one of them… and she surprised herself by wanting to be.  
  
-  
  
Nova was not sleepy, she loaded the dishwasher, Tariq had rinsed all the plates before leaving for the shady neighbourhood bar. She then strolled into the master bedroom, with Zizi riding the wheelchair dangerously close to heels. Novara stretched and adjusted the bed feeling rather bright.  
“I slept through the day, but you must be tired…”  
  
“Can I ask you something?”  
Zizi’s voice was uncertain.  
Nova had largely avoided any topics that she deemed uncomfortable for Zizi.  
“Hmm?”  
“Did it help? The… experiments, did they help?”  
Zizi thought of what Tariq implied earlier today. Nova didn’t expect this question, but she also felt it was something that Zizi did deserve an answer to.  
“Yes… But… If I could go back in time, I would rather…”  
“Do not worry, I know. Tell me more about it…?”  
Nova’s smile was sad, Zizi’s wasn’t as she comforted and in the same breath, brazenly asked for details  
“You sure?”  
“Mhmm. I love a good story before bed…”  
Zizi puffed her pillow and lay on her side, facing Nova. Her hand reached out towards the medic.  
“Me too!”  
Nova chimed, without thinking. She loved the idea of a story before bed, no one had read her any growing up. That stood true for them both.  
“Tell me then.”  
  
Zizi fingers walked closer to Nova’s, till they met again. Zizi patted the hand to emphasize her insistence. Nova’s eyes flashed with a certain pride and then were dulled with hesitance, she worked past it. She was eager to share the scientific details.  
Sharing them with Ezekiel had been a mistake.  
Sharing them with Zizi felt like a remedy.  
“Of course!”  
Novara crooned about skin-cells and pathways… accelerating processes. About growth and helping the body heal, even though the suffering…

The workings of the serum reflected Zizi’s life. She had suffered… And she had come out more healed than broken in some ways…  
  
-  
  
The sheets felt a little slept in, like the heavy conversations had woven themselves into the fabric. Just two nights, and the bedding had heard too much.   
Jared felt strange lying in Akira’s bed alone.  
They had only had a single night together, but that was enough for Jared and Akira to establish their sides. So, he slept on his side, and turned to look at hers. His hand fell across the emptiness. For the first time today, he felt that strange pining. This was difficult for him too, more than he expected. 

> To Shira: Thank you! 

He sent her a message. 

Between the meeting regarding Zizi’s situation and debriefing about his duties as SiC, Jared did want some space and he wanted to give her some too.  
He had not paid her a visit today, resigning himself to solitude. Maybe it was selfish.  
  
Having spent the evening sifting through people from his past did force him to face the truth of Akira’s words even more categorically than before. But that did not mean he was ready to talk about it. How could he burden someone else with the demons he had not fought?  
He just hoped that Akira could find a similar measure of purpose and drive around the rescued woman as he had. As painful as it was, she deserved a chance at a new life. A better life.  
Akira had always shown a keen interest in the mind and healing it, Zizi’s psyche could certainly use some soothing. Jared believed that she would step up. He did have faith in her. 

-

Insomnia was an all-consuming villain. She had slipped into the privacy of her new room immediately after dinner with Nova and Zizi. She tried to dedicate time to reading the material for the screening test. Her drive to obtain the BioHacker license, unfortunately did not stem from pure passion, but from the urge to _finish_ and join the others.  
So, she too could be part of teams… Get a suite with a hot tub… So she too could have a purpose.  
That did hamper progress though.  
She wished she could simply make this her true calling. She felt the familiar tug from the void, beckoning her to take a long hard look at the mirror and accept her worthlessness. To accept that she would not make it.  
 _No. Stop it.  
_  
The text from Jared made her heart flutter and provided enough momentary distraction to avoid the draw from the darkness inside.  
 _Just a ‘thank you’?_  
She rolled her eyes; she wanted more, she needed more. 

> To Red: What for? ...Can we sneak out and meet? 

She rolled on her side and wedged a pillow between her knees, absently reading through the introductory document regarding paediatrics. Her gaze flicked through the list of diseases that children are susceptible to and those that were rarer and had been eradicated in most Sectors.  
She went over them again, distractedly, trying to memorise, but her attention darted to the notification sidebar, often. Too often.  
He took longer to respond than she anticipated. 

> Red: Stay with Nova and Zizi, they might need you. I’ve had a long day. 

And she did not like it.  
 _Maybe he is right though…_  
Again, she was not sure, if he was in some way, trying to let her feel involved, or if she was really doing something of value to help.  
She thought they all had made progress with Zizi, but she put no real effort in it. 

> To Red: Okay… Can we make time tomorrow though?

She continued reading and stifled a yawn.  
 _Maybe I should make some coffee…_  
It was naive of her to assume Jared would have the strength to continue this conversation.  
Because he did not.  
She never got a reply and she waited longer than she should have. Longer than she wanted to.  
What cruel fate, that just as she gave up and finally succumbed to slumber, she missed the notification that pinged at just past three in the morning.

> Red: Yes… I’ll try. I love you.

Later that morning, she stirred at the gentle insistence of Nova.  
“Aki… Aki…”  
As usual, Akira had slept into the late hours of the morning. Bleary eyed, she looked at Nova, who was dressed so simply… No make-up, no choker, it was a welcome change from all the fancy things Eze forced her into. Her white coat was pristine though and she looked radiant.  
“I’m leaving, wake up please… Just to keep an eye on Zizi?”

Akira muffled her protests. Nova made this feel very necessary, so she did get out of bed.   
From a distance, the medic ensured that Akira was up and running and would not succumb to the warmth of the bed again, before she left.  
Akira read Jared’s message and could not fathom why he had to _try_ … She didn’t think she was asking for too much but reading what a part of her needed to hear, softened Akira. 

> To Red: Ok… Love you too. :* 

A kissy face.  
She feigned being more ok with this than she was because she _had_ to. Akira did admire him for being able to put things aside when he needed to, in favour of a mission after all.   
_It just sucks being one of those things…_   
It had never quite happened before. When Jared was a mentor at SpecSyn, he still had a lot more time at hand. Scarlett and Mark had not actively let him get involved in missions.  
Till he too… Went off the books, hooked by the bait thrown for him.  
 _He did break the rules for me… In his own way… When it did matter.  
_  
She prepared some breakfast.

The day stretched on in a silent monotony. Zizi moved around, Akira attributed it to the side-effect of being cooped up too long.  
But they both kept to themselves.   
Evening meant dinner with Tariq and Novara, their meeting had run late, so Akira did not push for a sparring session today either. Jared didn’t show up again.  
Tariq seemed sprightly that evening in a way he had not for a while. Akira noticed and made a mental note to inquire when an opportunity presented itself.  
  
“I guess we can all keep in touch through the day.”  
Nova said as she offered Zizi her own set of CommCube and SmartEye set.  
There had been a few upgrades since the pair that Zizi had used last, but it did not take her too long to fathom the updated features.  
The prosthetics were still on their way and would take a couple of days more. Nova could only hope that the CommCube gave her enough entertainment now that she had access to The Network.  
It certainly did take the edge of Zizi’s restlessness and by extension, Akira’s.  
The assimilated squad fell into a routine.  
-  
Sunrises and sunsets blurred outside the large window.  
For the most part, Akira and Zizi busied themselves with something on their CommCubes, staring away at the internally projected screens. Lost in the throngs of words.  
Akira furiously typed notes.  
Zizi furiously typed… something. It piqued Akira’s interest enough to ask.  
“What are you writing?”  
“I used to be a journalist, so… I’m just collating information, I guess…”  
Akira wanted to know more but did not want to pry and risk Novara’s wrath… yet.  
  
-  
  
Nova took mornings off sometimes so that Jared and Akira could steal some time together, but their conversations were wooden. With time that felt so borrowed, they tried to steer away from approaching topics that may leave their minutes and hours together, blemished. But as per usual, their success rate was limited.  
  
“What do you mean you won’t involve Ezekiel?!”  
Akira sounded pissed off. She admired him for doing whatever it took and he chose _this_ moment to do things in such a winded way?  
“What I said… We can’t remain objective with him…”  
Jared expected Akira’s admiration.  
“Who cares? He has it coming! It seriously sounds like you’re deliberately making this harder.”  
And there it was. His chosen silence.  
“I don’t know what you’re trying to prove and to whom.”  
 _To myself, Shira. I am not like the people who made me… what I am- what I was! I’m not going to be that person any more.  
_ His thoughts remained so; he didn’t get a chance to tell her. They had five minutes to spare before his next meeting.   
She walked away from him, with a pointed glance at her analogue watch.  
 _Not like we can talk this over in five minutes._  
They did not meet for the next few days.


	11. Training.

Akira slipped into the training room. She was expecting Tariq to finally train with her and thought a warm-up session might help. She slapped the wooden spokes of the wooden dummy half-heartedly.  
Jared worked it so much better. She could mimic his motions, but not with his speed or finesse.  
 _At least I can try to keep up with training or start again… rather…_

She heard the already familiar whir of the chair and turned.  
Zizi waited by the door, watching. She didn’t want to roll onto the mats and raised her eyebrows when Akira turned.   
“I hope you don’t mind me peeking. Please do not stop on my account.”  
“I… er… Cool, I guess.”

Akira grew a little conscious under the scrutiny but felt compelled to continue now.  
“I prefer a good ol’ speed ball, but a _Mu ren Zhuang_ has its charms…”  
Akira replied while continuing to weave her strikes between the bars.  
“You know what it is?”  
“Chinese for The Wooden Dummy, I’ve trained on it before…”  
Akira cocked her head. She did not know the precise details, but Novara had mentioned something about some fighting pit and trainers. It was not inconceivable that Zizi knew how to fight.  
“I guess… I use it to practice quick interruptive strikes… Sometimes.”

Akira now felt the need to make excuses for her lack of expertise. She was also met with an urge to prove that she was not a complete novice. A tank top was adjusted, as were the loose tracks. She took deep breath and squared off against the imaginary opponent. Her strikes fell with an unexpected fervour, but did not stop, despite the light bruises.  
“I’m clearly not fast enough-”  
She said loudly, over the clatter of the dummy. When she finally stopped her fingers instinctively ran over the tender skin, breathlessly.  
“-to get out of the way of the spokes. Neither do I have the stamina anymore…”  
She clicked her tongue following the soft contemplation.  
“You’re too hard on yourself and going too hard at it too…”  
Zizi responded, encouragingly.  
“I guess this practice doesn’t matter all that much against a real person, there are a lot more things to consider then...”  
Akira did not mean to sound confrontational, but she recognized that she was feeling defensive.

Zizi had not read the self-justifying note in Akira’s words and took them at face value. She moved out of the way as Akira made her way into the kitchen to fetch some water.  
“True. Things do change when you are fighting an actual person.”  
Zizi was talking from experience. Very vivid and life or death experience and Akira could not help but recognize this, it compelled her to clarify,  
“That’s what Tariq says anyways… Jared and he are kinda better at this than I am...”  
“You’d be surprised how much just a little practice and experience can help.”  
Zizi replied, nonchalantly, oblivious to the inner workings of the mind of the girl in front of her.  
“I _do_ practice. In fact, Tariq is probably going to come by to spar with me later today.”  
Akira’s cheeks flushed a little hotly, she hoped Zizi assumed that it was just from the quick work out.  
Zizi did assume so and did not read much into it.  
“Oh! Should be fun to watch you two go at it…”  
Zizi added, a little brightly. They had slowly adopted her into the fold so well. She did not realise she may be intruding. For her, the concept of combat and fighting for survival was as comfortable as breathing; a part of her revelled in it. A chance to witness it in a friendly capacity felt pleasantly warm.

Akira made a non-committal sound and turned away; she was not so sure if she could handle Zizi as an audience. But she sounded like she was looking forward to it and Akira knew Tariq would not mind. She was right.

Akira had opened the door to Tariq’s incessant rapping shortly after and sure enough, he didn’t mind Zizi.  
“Ready for me to take you down, T?”  
She challenged softly. She did not want to be overheard. Her confidence was on thin ice today.  
Tariq noticed and filed it away. He did not want Akira to walk away from this feeling like a failure… in any capacity. He also did not intend on making things too easy for her.

They snuck into the training room.  
“Think you will make contact?”  
They wound wrist-guards around their arms, securing their knuckles with the wrap and took their stances against each other.  
“You’re ok, right? Nova said things got a ?”  
“You know I wouldn’t take on mighty Akira if I wasn’t.”  
He remained playful and was only half-joking.  
She stuck her tongue out at him and then soberly added,  
“Zizi mentioned wanting to watch us train. Think that’s okay?”  
Akira almost winced as she asked, hoping against hope that he would find some logical reason to decline.  
No such luck.  
“Of course! It is wonderful actually!”  
As she expected, Tariq sounded thrilled.

Akira’s smile was too wide to be genuine. She turned away quickly to reach for a skipping rope. She felt the urge to vanish as Zizi re-emerged and she and Tariq spent a moment sizing each other. The silence that followed felt incredible awkward to Akira. She cleared her throat.  
“Right…”  
Tariq said, slightly absently.  
Akira wanted to snap and ask him to focus, to playfully threaten to wipe the floor with him if he did not. But she knew those were empty threats and stating them without the ability to follow through, especially in front of Zizi, made them feel hollow.

Tariq volunteered to let Akira practice some of the basic self-defence techniques on him.  
“You’ve still got it…”  
Tariq muttered with some exertion as Akira swiftly maneuvered him into a lock.  
“Really?”  
Her focus split for just long enough for Tariq to break the lock and reverse it.  
Akira grit her teeth as she struggled against it.  
“Gotcha! Focus, silly… Don’t just struggle… Try and find another way.”  
She knew these things and didn’t take kindly to being reminded today.  
Her eyes flitted to Zizi, who watched with a non-judgemental fascination, sitting up in her chair with an eagerness of a child.  
The two grappled briefly and Zizi did not interfere. She tried to make it easy for them to forget she was there. But she caught both their glances too often.   
She could see things were rather effortless for Tariq, but despite that, Akira managed to catch him out, albeit inconsistently.  
Sometimes he let her, other times she acted on an instinct that felt unpredictable to the seasoned fighters – Tariq as the recipient and Zizi as an observer.

Witnessing their training quickly became the favourite part of her day. Slowly, she participated, offering tips and suggestions alongside Tariq; they agreed often.  
The few times they didn’t, Tariq admitted that his way of dealing with a certain situations involved dragging things out for the fun, especially if the guy deserved it.  
Zizi had cryptically countered with,  
“Sometimes you can’t afford that and just have to go for the takedown… or kill…”  
She had excused herself after that mention. But it did not deter her from becoming a regular presence for the next few days that followed.

Akira tried her best to soak up as much knowledge as she could, but it became more and more difficult for her to not feel inferior.  
When it was just her and Tariq, despite the amount of experience he had on her, she was never left feeling insecure.  
_Worthless, failure…  
_  
-  
  
Nova took the first half of the day off to work with Zizi when her prosthetics finally arrived. They took longer than anticipated, paper pushing was hard work and Nova was not very good at it. Akira ensured that the nerve-endings were appropriately synced to the best of her abilities.  
Everything seemed to work well enough.

Zizi paced around the house in deliberate strides picking up things and putting them down as she allowed herself to test and get accustomed to the extensions. She had some measure of control for the finer motions of the mechanical fingers.  
But she was intimately familiar with the variance in the specifications. Since her body had basically been a mule for demonstrations that involved cutting-edge prosthetic prototypes, she was doing better than Nova and Akira had anticipated.  
This felt like a valid reason for the team to share a meal, so Nova proposed a celebratory dinner.   
“I’ll go to the convenience store and get something to spruce up the food with…”  
It was only upon stating that, did Akira realise with a certain bitterness, that no one had explicitly stated that Akira and Zizi were _not_ confined to the suite. However, without stating it, the others conveniently let the ladies assume they were on house arrest. 

Nova left for her shift at the clinic past lunch, shortly after Akira returned from the store.  
Akira and Zizi began the preparations for the food and Tariq joined them, all too eager to help prep the food.  
“I haven’t forgotten… Y’know… You wanna go?”   
Zizi leaned on the counter next to Tariq as he sniffed the steam from the sauce that simmered on the stove. Her meaning was obvious to him.  
Akira was chopping some shallots and trying not to eavesdrop, half-heartedly.  
“You’ve just got your prosthetics today, maybe start easy?”  
Tariq was serious, he was not just inflating his own worth.  
Zizi deliberately chose to ignore that and watched him with amusement.  
“Who says you’re not going easy?”  
Akira set her knife down and was not completely sure what compelled her to interrupt them,  
“We could spar… If you’d like.”  
Emerald eyes snapped onto the intense sable eyes.  
“Yeah… that might be fun!”  
Tariq piped up.  
Akira was minutely prickled that he did not think she posed any real challenge; she was hoping Tariq would protest.

When they finally got onto the mat and started going through the motions, it became painfully obvious that his assessment had been correct. Akira was an easy enough opponent, Zizi kept up with ease. They were just striking and parrying and then they wove in some modifications. Things picked up pace, just as Zizi got faster, Akira felt like she was getting slower and breathless.  
And then it happened.  
A metal fist flew towards a face.  
Akira didn’t duck, or parry in time.  
A muffled crack of a broken nose followed.  
Akira was staggered backwards, she winced and was so startled that she was silent.  
Tariq saw the molten red anger pour into his friend’s form and then pour out of her lips in form of a threat she certainly did not mean.  
“What the fuck! I’m going to kill you…”  
Akira didn’t recognize her own voice.

Tariq now saw the hardened, icy strike that Zizi prepared and let fly on instinct. He threw himself between them, blocking the metallic leg that was flung towards Akira and throwing his arm across her as she lunged like a feral kitten.  
Zizi saw the trickling blood and the rebellious tears that clung to Akira’s lashes. She was quicker to understand that the situation had escalated and eased off the fighting stance. She folded her arms and backed off to a corner.  
Tariq used Akira’s motion against her and easily dropped her onto the mat, she landed with a thud which knocked the air out of her, he knelt over her shins and pinned her wrists to the ground with one hand.  
For a moment she struggled with violence, now glaring at Tariq.  
“I’ll kill you too…” she hissed.

This was a moment. Akira was having a very bad moment. Tariq was not a stranger to them. Though they had been a rarer occurrence in adulthood.  
“Kira… Kira. Stop. Look at me. Breathe. It was an accident…”  
He held her there till she stopped struggling and drew a few ragged breaths and she recognized the pain of the insult.  
“F—I can’t bre”  
She sounded nasal, her eyes screwed shut. Once she stopped struggling and Tariq eased off her, she quickly drew herself off the mat and streaked into her room with a hand cupping her broken nose.  
“I’m sorry.”  
Tariq and Zizi’s apologies coalesced; they shared wry smiles.

“I… I just-”  
“-Reacted on instinct? Yeah, I got that. Don’t worry about it.”  
He let her talk first but interrupted her when she hesitated.  
“Yeah, usually when people say that, they mean it…”  
Tariq scanned her face; she wore a careful expression of impassive resignation. It reminded him of Jared. He replied absently.  
“I… I get that. She certainly didn’t mean it.”   
“Will she be fine?”  
“I think so. She’s not usually like this… anymore.”  
Tariq mused, he too stood with folded arms and stared in the general direction of Akira’s room. She didn’t come out until it was dinner time. The responsibility of finishing the dinner fell upon Tariq and Zizi.  
-  
Nobody talked about what happened. Tariq and Zizi were setting the food on the ample platform of the kitchen. Nova did not think to ask questions when she returned. She eagerly rushed into the bathroom for a shower. It was almost dinner time.  
She considered prettying herself up for it a little, but the thought of staring into the mirror to accentuate her beauty, just reminded her too much of Ezekiel. She did not want dresses… Or perfectly fitting skirts, or fancy fucking bras. Simple things.

Zizi shuffled into the room to freshen up too.  
“You look brighter than usual, Nova…”  
She mentioned in an off-handed manner as she noticed the choices pooled onto bed.  
“… Because, you’re doing well and I’m going to be with _my_ people”  
Her words were less a response and more a realisation.  
All she really wanted to wear was the joy she felt at collecting people she cared for, around her.  
And certainly, these people did not care if she was in a dress or in sweatpants. 

Everybody was in tracksuits.  
Vivianne was the only one well dressed and somehow, she was so casual in her manner that she didn’t stick out. Except when she resolutely sat on a chair while the others spilled onto the floor.  
She watched with her usual intrigue, a gentle, friendly smirk gracing her lips. She certainly was happy to see Tariq and Nova happy again.  
The two of them took to the gathering with a certain flair.

Akira joined after all the _guests_ had arrived. She had bandaged the small cut that opened on the bridge of her nose.  
Jared remained slightly reserved and watchful. His duties as SiC were certainly bleeding into his general demeanour. His questioning gaze towards Akira and her nose, was not met with any response.  
They toasted to new beginnings and had wine out of tumblers, in carefully measured quantities.  
Zizi gave Jared a wide berth. She was polite, but not friendly, he responded in kind.  
Nova and Tariq assumed it simply had to do with lack of familiarity. Their theory faltered when Zizi seemed far more accommodating towards Vivi.  
But everybody carefully skirted around the uncomfortable dynamics that lurked under the surface amidst them, except Akira.  
She surrendered to the buzz of the wine and a part of her was itching for a confrontation.

The little gathering commenced; Tariq used his CommCube to play dj.  
The party went on.  
Eventually, Zizi cornered Akira by the kitchen counter.   
“Listen… I just wanted to say I’m sorry…”  
“It’s fine… I did threaten to kill you.”  
Akira replied matter-of-factly, her voice was louder than Zizi’s had been.  
“You what?”  
Jared did not mean to pry, but he did, especially when the two people he was most concerned about, rubbed shoulders.  
Akira turned around slowly and glared.  
“Threatened to kill her.”  
She repeated in a soft voice, that was deliberately hostile.

Jared was not going to take bait, given that nobody except Akira looked harmed, it was safe to assume the situation had been benign. He tried remaining patient in his inquiry.  
“What happened?”  
Akira pointed at her nose and shrugged.  
“We were sparring.”  
Zizi interjected when it sounded like Akira was trying to goad him, upon feeling accused. She wanted to apologise again, to assuage any concerns that Jared may have, but Akira went on.  
  
“It only makes sense, right? She has a lot more experience than I do, I thought I could learn, who knows when we’ll have to fight for our lives…”  
Akira blurted. She did not expect what happened next. She felt the reverberation through the wooden panels when a pair of flat palms slapped the floor.  
They were Nova’s.  
“She will _not_ be fighting for her life again.”  
The colour drained from Akira’s face a little.  
Jared glared at her and saw the colour return, a slightly different hue of red.  
One of rage and of chagrin instead of the glow from the wine.

Jared broke the silence with an urgent whisper.  
“Akira, a word. In private, please.”  
He spoke less like Jared and more like SiC.  
Zizi excused herself and decided to call it a night. It was easy to tell that whatever was happening went beyond just the incident. She did not want to be a redundant presence and she had not plucked up the courage to ask for any details around the nuances of their dynamics.  
Vivianne did not excuse herself, but she slipped out of the suite, amidst the roaring emotions in the room, only Tariq noticed.   
He let her go, Vivi was not fond of such drama.  
His hand found Nova’s shoulder.  
Akira dragged herself off the floor and stormed into the guest room.  
_Yeah, I need a goddamn word too._  
Jared slammed the door shut behind them, more like Jared and less like SiC, and drew a breath to talk, but Akira beat him to it…


	12. Share.

Akira spoke loudly enough for the walls and the doors between them, and the others to not matter.  
“Look, I get Nova… I get where she is coming from. But she can’t actually make promises like that.” 

“Shira.”  
Jared spoke very quietly, but by no means was his tone demure.  
“What?”  
Her voice dropped to a whisper too.  
He had made his point, they had to maintain some discretion.  
“Zizi doesn’t need that right now. She doesn’t need to imagine being in situations-”  
“How the hell do you know what she does and doesn’t need? I’m the one stuck-”  
Jared’s look betrayed a sort of judgement. The exact kind that Akira feared.  
Like he would think she was some sort of an insensitive, shrewd… Bitch.  
“I mean stuck here, in the suite. Not stuck with her.”  
She tried to justify herself.  
He wanted his expression to soften. But it did not soften enough.

Silence. His silence always rang louder than words. And it was always the kind that she felt compelled to break.  
“Look, I get that you guys think I’m somehow not good enough…”  
“I never said that.”  
This time Jared did speak because he did not want Akira entertaining that thought.  
It simply was not true. 

“Yeah, but you act like it, like I’m some kind of a failure.”  
 _Because you are…_  
She tried to push the intrusive thought away again. Since the card game, the thoughts were omnipresent and pushing them away was a habit now.  
Jared’s sigh struggled to fight with the voice in her head. She needed more.  
“You’re not a failure, Shira.”  
He offered more and sat down on the bed.

She forgot to keep her voice down.  
And he forgot to ask her to.  
“Yet you keep meddling and acting like I’ll somehow break Zizi. I’m the one with the broken nose damnit. Either trust me with her, or don’t.”

“I do! I trust you. It’s just that Nova and I think Zizi needs some time...”  
Jared’s voice rose too.  
“And how exactly do you and Nova always know more than me about what Zizi needs somehow?”  
“Because... Because we have gone through things, Shira!”  
Her first instinct was to snap at Jared.  
“Things you won’t talk to me about.”

He folded his hands, his jaw tightened in a manner that let her know that today too was not the night for that conversation.

Akira clammed up for a second as she recognized that same lilting sense of selfishness.  
Like she deserved that judgement that she saw flash in Jared’s eyes before.  
She went on trying her best to be more accommodating,  
“I know… I mean, at least Nova told me, and I get her. But it is not… not like I have not… gone through things.”  
Somewhere, she sought acknowledgement that she didn’t know how to ask for. And Jared could not, in this moment, see what she needed.  
He had a lot on his plate, it certainly was wearing him down.   
“Shira, this is about Zizi.”  
He sighed the words and looked at the floor, with his hands on his knees. He stretched his aching neck.  
 _Correct. This is not about me- (Don’t think it. Don’t think… it.)-Nothing ever is._ She swallowed and folded her hands. She looked at the floor too.  
“Right. Why don’t you just give me a rulebook…?”  
  
He rubbed the back of his shoulders.  
 _Maybe I should have, maybe she was not ready after all._  
He answered her rhetoric with some sincerity, consciously softer again.  
“Just… avoid going into her past. If not for me, or her… at least for Nova’s sake… okay?”  
“Not into yours. Not into hers…”  
Akira whispered; she did not really confirm that she would follow through on his request though.   
She did notice how tired Jared looked. The way he winced slightly as his fingers worked the knots in his tense muscles.  
She clicked her tongue softly. Her hands closed over his. He let his slip out from underneath hers when her grip tightened and then slackened reassuringly. He gave the access she needed to knead his flesh, with tender attention.  
As he loosened under her administrations, for the briefest of moments she felt wanted. Truly wanted.  
And he felt a safety he did not know he needed. 

“Please… Just let me in Jared…”  
He instantly tensed again and held her shoulders. There was a certain desperation in his grip. His head rested against her almost pleadingly.  
“I… I am okay now Shira… Who I was… and everything else… It really doesn’t matter any more. Trust me.”  
He wanted to believe what he was saying and he could not, how could he expect her to?  
She pulled away.  
His hands hung in the wake of her movement, briefly, like she had torn a part of him with herself and he was trying to hold on.  
“No… You don’t trust me...”  
She sounded sharper than she meant to and threw up her hands in a surrender. And then threw open the door behind her as she muttered,  
“Whatever…”  
-  
Tariq had never really witnessed this side of Akira.  
In fact, this was the second glimpse he had of Jared and Akira in a normal setting. By normal, he meant one that did not test them to the point of breaking one where neither of them were on the verge of succumbing to injuries. Their attachment and love flourished better in the latter than the former thought.  
 _Better with guns and whips, than wine and dine? That’s a little fucked up._  
Everybody could still see that the two cared about each other deeply though. He was not too surprised either, Akira was always very headstrong and today had not been a good day for her. Jared seemed quieter but he certainly was not one to budge either, when it came down to it.

From the way that Nova reacted with a certain resignation, it seemed like this was not a rare occurrence between them.  
He lingered with Nova, having witnessed yet another side that he had not seen before. Hers.  
Tariq tried to offer some comfort. She leaned into his touch but seemed inconsolable.  
Still reeling from the way she had acted...  
Nova had enough practice actively trying to not eavesdrop on Akira’s and Jared’s arguments. Today, she did the opposite for a chance, especially when she heard her name. She lurked, leaning into to the door.  
Till it opened.  
Nova peeled herself away from the door that flung open, just in time. She flattened herself against the wall opposite to it. She looked sheepish and guilt.  
  
Akira fiddled with the zip of her jacket, intentionally avoiding the medic as she returned to the living room. She decided to see Tariq out. They lingered in the corridor outside the room, just out of earshot.  
“We all want what is best for Zizi? It makes sense to indulge her wishes I guess…”  
Even though sparring with Zizi irked Akira in some inexplicable way and left her with a broken nose, she was defensive of their choice by compulsion.  
“If it makes her happy right? I mean, you don’t have to, if you don’t want to…”   
Tariq added.  
“A broken nose hasn’t stopped me before… I’ll keep myself reigned though.”  
They nodded in a silent promise. It felt agreed upon that they were going to continue training with Zizi if she was still up for it.  
An awkward apology flashed in his amber eyes.  
 _Sorry, I guess that comes between you and Jared?_  
She could practically hear his thoughts. She was acutely aware that things had gotten slightly weird.   
But it was something a quick conversation in the future would have to diffuse.  
After all, she too, still needed answers regarding his pointed chirpiness the other day after his alleged date with Osi… But now was just not the time.

Akira went back in and ran into Jared as he bid goodnight to Nova.  
Jared threw his arm around her like it was second nature.  
“Do… do you want to come spend the night with me? Nova was just saying that she a-”  
“No… I am fine here. Good night.”  
After days and days of wanting to sneak a sleep-in with Jared, Akira pointedly denied the offer and retired to her bedroom.  
-  
  
Nova apologized to Akira for the outburst before leaving the next morning. Akira returned a hollow one. They rarely disagreed and apologies could not bandage those moments. A consensus felt impossible.  
Akira considered offering an apology to Jared. And didn’t for the same reason. On some level, she was keenly expecting one from him instead, though she couldn’t place a finger on what for exactly. Somewhere in the BioHacker trainee section, Jared echoed the sentiments of his lover.  
And no apologies were exchanged between them. Or anything else.

Akira took a long shower before ambling into the living room. This apology was one well directed and deserved. The night should not have become what it did.  
“I… kinda put a damper on dinner last night huh? I’m sorry…”  
She noticed Zizi scrawling something meticulously with pen and paper. That was a rare sight, everybody just used the CommCubes for everything.  
She slowly sidled closer to Zizi.  
“I did that when I broke your nose, I think.”  
Zizi spoke, but did not look up from her work.  
“We both know it was an accident…”  
  
A part of Akira was fuelled by the desire to be better, to meet some arbitrary expectations. Some standards that the others had unknowingly set with regards to her role in Zizi’s recovery.  
But _she_... Also wanted to be right. _Zizi is a person. She is not a survivor and she is not a victim. She is a person!  
_ Akira did not wish to see that, while Zizi was indeed a person, being a victim and a survivor were certainly a part of her too. Parts she should not be undermining, any more than the others who were unintentionally undermining the person under the breakable exterior.  
“I feel like eating left-overs for breakfast… What about you?”   
“Sounds good…”  
Zizi had expected Akira to grow even more distant after last night, so she was a little dismissive of her. Her eyes remained slightly glassy as she continued transcribe from her SmartEye feed to the paper, something with a fixated focus.

Akira reheated the dinner.  
“Collating information again?”  
She asked as she took the plate Zizi, they sat on the rug by the fireplace.  
“Something like that…”  
With a small smile, Zizi put away the CommCube and her notepad and picked up the cutlery.  
“You said you worked as a journalist…”  
Akira was actively breaking the rules Jared and Novara asked her to follow. She felt liberated in her rebellion but fought the guilty instinct that compelled her to pull the plug on this while she still could.  
“T.S.T”  
“So you used to work for The Supremacy then?”  
Akira tried not to sound judgemental. After all, she too had enrolled with them for her BioHacker license.  
“Not exactly… I did what they asked of me, but I… ran my own little edition of the paper. Anonymously, of course. Circulated among most rebels. Information, intel… gossip. Local… mostly, so if you weren’t from Sector 0, you probably won’t know”  
Akira’s eyes widened with a child-like admiration.  
“That’s so cool…”  
She said, with a sincerity that surprised Zizi. She settled down onto the carpet more comfortably.

Zizi had been pining to share her story and ask Akira for hers. Her old journalistic instincts floated to the surface. Something about their co-habitation so far, had felt too tenuous for her to risk it. It was surprising to Zizi that Akira chose this morning to take down that wall, but did not read too much into it and assumed that the conflict yesterday gave the younger girl some kind of catharsis… and allowed her to open out more.  
“Technically, one could say it gets cooler. But I doubt you will believe me even if I told you.”  
There was an eager glint in Zizi’s eyes as she deliberately created anticipation. It was reflected in Akira’s. She had not walked into this conversation with the noblest of intentions. She wanted to prove Jared and Nova wrong… she wanted to be right, she wanted to _know_. But, whatever her reasons, Akira was already hooked.  
“Try me!”  
“Only if I get to ask questions too.”  
Zizi challenged after taking a sip of water.  
“Done. And… You- we don’t really have to share something we don’t want to.”  
Akira did not want this venture to fail. She did not want to become the reason that something went wrong and that Zizi truly ended up suffering on account of her nosey curiosity.  
“Oh honey! First rule of journalism… Make sure they always _want_ to answer your question.”  
Zizi teased, confidently.

Akira grinned. This suddenly felt so easy.  
“So, what is it I won’t believe?”  
“I started this spoken word section, basically a vent for how shitty everything was-”  
Akira already looked at Zizi like she was a fan.  
“-And upon request, I performed it on record. I changed my hairdo and wore a mask, undisclosed location, encrypted software and secure platform… the whole shebang. All cloaks-and-daggers. I am not going to lie, I didn’t want to lose my day job. It provided the money I needed to run this stuff…”   
Akira raised her eyebrows and held up her hands.  
“Wait… did you dye your hair teal?”  
Zizi nodded, glad that Akira had already caught on.  
“And was your mas- Oh damn! You wer-are Ritonix! The original… Like really? You aren’t making this up?”  
Akira wasn’t somebody who fawned over people for their stardom or popularity, which is what allowed her to get close to Jared, all those years ago. But Ritonix was more than just another artist, she was a symbol… a movement and a concept. And Akira was rather fond of her work. Everybody knew that Ritonix was eventually more than one person and for a few years… Everybody wanted to be Ritonix.  
“Told you, you won’t believe me! But yeah, in the flesh…”

Her work had permeated Akira’s Sector after it had already taken The Mainland and Sector 0 by storm. But she and Tariq were hooked, especially because it was around the time that The Supremacy had taken over.  
They had to breach some serious security protocols on The Network to gain access, but they had. Just humming along to those words in the oppressive hallways of The System, had given Akira the strength to make it through.  
“I guess that’s why I caught Nova muttering those lyrics sometimes…”

Zizi’s smile vanished and she fiddled with the metallic fingers of her prosthetics. Her dark skin accentuated the brightness of the metal.  
“I… yes. I relied on Ritonix as anyone else through… dark moments I guess.”  
Zizi sounded ashamed.  
Akira could not help but picture the woman in Ezekiel’s room, rapping her way through the torments of the Serum. She too had used words of songs to anchor herself, several times… Through the stint when Jared tried interrogating her, on the metallic table in the east-facing cells after the whipping.   
“I, I get it. I’ve done something like that too…”  
She trailed off.

Zizi and Akira both sat in silence. Neither of them pushed for sombre details now, but they shared a moment. An unspoken acknowledgement of suffering.  
Akira smiled weakly.

“Tariq and I were such big fans…”  
“Were? I heard Ritonix is still alive and kicking…”  
Zizi pestered playfully, trying to help Akira in drawing the conversation away from something that felt too uncomfortable to approach yet.  
“So-”  
“Uh-huh, my turn. On the topic of Tariq… You two seem pretty close, more than just colleagues for sure...”  
Akira’s smile grew brighter as Zizi cut her off to ask about Tariq.  
“Oh! We grew up together, same neighbourhood and school. Both Football captains… Both wingers too… Till my knee injury any ways. T and I kinda spent more time competing than being friends, but we spent a lot of time together.”

Her story was not as flamboyant as Journalist-turned-rebel-rapper. But Zizi listened with such keenness, that Akira felt like it was.  
“We truly got close surviving The System after The Supremacy took over my Sector and we were in there together for a couple of years, I think I was fifteen... He...”  
Akira wasn’t sure if this was her tale to tell any more, so she paused.  
Zizi tried to prompt her.   
“And then…?”  
Akira decided to avoid the topic of Tariq’s loss.  
“Life took us our separate ways. And… After the Supremacy fell, I ended up aligned with SpecSyn briefly and he’s always been here with Q.B. So strangely enough we ended up on opposite side of things…”

Akira took her time to explain how she and Tariq reconnected and just as she finished, he arrived for their standard training session.

Tariq did not ask how or why Akira and Zizi were on better terms. He was simply glad that they were. They did not spar against one another today. Each of them worked on perfecting some techniques individually.  
Zizi could never let go of a bone once she got a whiff.   
"Akira told me how you too got close... Sweet..."  
"Well... In some ways she was all I had left, I'd lost my mom already, The Supremacy took care of my brother and father."  
Akira heard the clarity and the usual feigned nonchalance in Tariq's voice as he spoke of the family and how they were killed. She continued to shadow box in silence.  
  
Zizi responded to Tariq in kind and on instinct, which surprised Akira.   
"My parents never made it past The Screening... And The Supremacy took a lot from me too. First my arm, then my siblings... I never learned what exactly happened. The bar Kojo and Daya owned, was razed to the ground..."   
Akira turned to look at the two of them exchange a look of empathy. It chilled her and warmed her at the same time. She had been there for Tariq, but Zizi understood him in a way Akira never could.  
The ex-Fighter went on, now assuming a note of poignant nostalgia.  
"Daya used to work in pharmaceuticals and Kojo was a head chef, they both saved up to get that dingy shack of theirs... It's my fault. I think they did some demonstration after I was forced to seek refuge out of Sector 0. If I had never created Ritonix, none of that would have happened..."  
"Do you regret it, then?"  
Akira asked, softly, her curiosity getting the better of her.  
"I... I don't know."

Akira still wanted to know so much more, but some truths were a lot easier to like than others. She would come to realise over the next few days.


	13. There is no point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Self-harm, suicidal ideation, blood, unhealthy relationship dynamics.

She was slipping.

An evening when all Tariq could tell her to do was watch Zizi’s movements to learn and become better…  
“Almost, Kira… but you’re twisting your body too much, that’s a tell, you want the strike to be a surprise… you gotta-”  
He just needed to look at Zizi for her to demonstrate again. They had developed such a keen and natural choreography as the two of them trained Akira together… It was not like that; they were all learning together, just a few days ago. When did it become _them_ teaching her?

_Makes sense I guess; they have more experience._

Zizi’s fist flew at the pad Tariq held, missing it deliberately and then landing a quick backhanded strike as she recoiled. The pad took quite the battering, Akira was glad that the suite was soundproof.  
“-Like that, making the best of the miss…”  
It was Zizi who completed Tariq’s advice.  
  
Akira had learned that Zizi had lost so much, and yet she fought... and fought better than she did. In less literal ways too...

-

And a night when she spent hours stammering answers at Nova as she revised for a test, haphazardly.  
“Alcyone really _hates_ it when trainees are not procedural, so try to structure your answer, it’ll fly better.”  
Nova’s smile was genuine, she was encouraging as usual.  
So, Akira tried again, she started by listing the symptoms this time, gnawing at her lower lips as she stared past Nova, trying to recall the epidemiological data for the disease.  
Nova tried to offer a mooring for the answer.  
“Maybe start with the physical exam? Alcyone will probably walk you through a case…”  
“Ok… ok…”  
Akira took a deep breath and tried again.  
“Oh, and you can’t stutter… They’ll assume you don’t know…”  
  
Nova winced as she spoke this time, almost apologetically. She was just wishing that Alcyone was a more forgiving examiner.  
All Akira saw was pity. She laughed nervously. Dismissively, she decided to do what she always did… Postpone.   
“I guess, I mean, I’m probably just not ready, I’ll just give the test… next round.”  
“No… Aki. Come on, you always do this, you _know_ your stuff…”  
Nova’s pleas went unheard. Akira had made her decision.

-

A morning that she could not find the will to get out of bed.

Nova had the day off, Zizi had fallen into the day to day humdrum well enough to make breakfast. Akira was not really needed; she did not have to get out of bed. So, she did not.  
“I’m not hungry, but thanks…”  
She responded to the knock at her door and heard the rhythmic clink of Zizi’s metal leg as she walked away.  
  
Later that day, Akira finally slipped out of her room, quietly. Unfortunately, she ran into Nova and Zizi in the living room.  
“I’m just… going to go for a walk. Get some snacks… Might go to my room to pick up some things too.”  
“Ok… but please don’t give up on the test, you still have-”  
Nova’s insistence was interrupted by the thud of the door.  
  
-  
It was surprising how little of himself Jared left in her room. And everything was so neat.

She purposely shuffled the neatly tucked covers of her- the bed. The room did not feel like hers anymore, but nor was it his.

He had been living in it for about a fortnight now. She opened her cabinets, largely stocked with BuzzBo and cereal. The refrigerator had some frozen meals. She was not even sure if this was an invasion of privacy or not. The closet doors flew open next. Her hands ruffled through the clothes hung up on the hanger, everything was new. Uniforms, tracksuits… Most things were in threes. Solid colours… Suddenly, she was looking for something and she wasn’t sure what till she found it.

A white t-shirt.

She was not sure what compelled her to do it, but within moments, she stripped to just her underclothes. Akira snatched the cotton tee. It was too soft to be new. She held it up to her face, burying her nose in the fabric, she inhaled deeply. Detergent mostly, but him too. She slipped into it. The hem of the t-shirt kissed the top of her thighs.

Akira was not very sure of why she was doing whatever it was she was doing. Things seemed to be happening around her, her limbs acting out of their own accord.

She sauntered to the bathroom, that still felt like hers… and a little like his.

Her old toothbrush and his snuggled in a cup by the basin. Some of her things peeked from the shelves that sat on either side of the frameless mirror. He had tried neatening them up. Stacking the old dry bottles of nail-polish in one corner and the expired make up in another. It looked like he tried navigating the shelves before giving up and just letting them be, adding his own things somewhere in between.

_Just like he finds his little spaces between the mess I am…  
_

Could she really expect him to give her more, give her everything she said she wanted? Could she really handle what she was asking for? Probably not. Maybe it was stupid of her to think that she could be there for him. Maybe he was right in keeping things from her.  
Maybe not.  
Maybe he ought to trust her a little bit. Make some more space for himself. Things should feel more... equal. Yet, they didn't. He had a darker past and probably a brighter future, just like Tariq, like Nova too... And Zizi. They had suffered and they were better for it.  
She did not flick the light on, the only source of illumination was a glazed window for ventilation. She looked at herself in the mirror. It was like a black and white photo. She drew herself closer, leaning over the basin. Peering at the dark-circles and the slight gaunt of her cheeks. The slightly vacant and hollow look in her eyes.  
  
Things felt easier once. She felt less burdened, less like a burden too…   
She was invincible once.  
Flawless. Fierce. Bold… Infallible. Heck, she was incorrigible. A fighter.  
She had her light in the past and maybe that was the problem. Maybe that's why she didn't know how to fight the darkness.  
 _‘you are a…?’  
That voice. That stupid voice._ _  
_“Failure.”  
The reflection’s lips moved; the word echoed in the bathroom.  
Akira leaned closer; her left palm joined hands with the girl on the other side of the glass.  
Lips moved again, forming foreign words that asked for something final.  
“I’m a failure. I deserve to die. You should kill me.”

Then she saw it.

⅃ƎIꓘƎZƎ

The letters were so angular and sharp. Precise and assured in the way they were etched onto the woman’s forearm. He was still flaunting his existence on her, in her mind.

Akira looked down at her own arm. She lingered on each letter individually. The E started about four-fingers from the crease of her elbow. L ended over the light-green tree of her veins, just under her wrist.

The mirror shattered.  
She broke it.  
“You don’t get to tell me who I am!”

A dagger-shaped shard clinked against the basin. Tiny perfect drops of red followed, staining the white ceramic. The ball of her left palm was now bleeding.  
She did not care. She barely felt it. Slowly, she reached for the piece. Blood fell onto it, and Akira wiped it away. The eyes of the woman who looked back at her, from the red-tinted reflective surface, were dark and stormy. Doubt and pain flickered as the eyelids closed momentarily. Then there was that molten anger again.

She marched into the shower cabinet and sat down on the floor. Like she sat that day, draped in that lab-coat. With a uniform first, and then a suit. Tariq and Jared had been there then… One after another.

But today she was alone.  
Alone in Jared’s white-tee, which was already sporting a few stains of crimson.  
She looked down at the god-forsaken name.  
At that perpendicularly angled letter at her wrist. Then back at the shard… and then just at the wrist, past the scar of the letter.

-

Jared’s hair stood on end. He was not expecting someone to already be in the room. He noticed every little change, the covers, the cabinets that were left slightly ajar. The way the seam of his uniform peaked out of the crack between the closet doors, like they had been closed in a hurry. There were no signs of forced entry… But BioHacker trainees did not have too many layers of protections for their rooms, no one typically wanted anything from them. Getting in would not take too much effort.

 _Did someone come looking for something?_ _  
_If that had truly been the purpose of this intruder’s visit, he was not too worried. There was nothing in the room that was worth taking.  
This person was not really trying to mask their presence.  
Yet, there seemed to be no one in the room.  
 _Maybe they left?_  
But something set Jared on edge. Something felt off.  
Then he heard the soft purr of streaming water. Jared was not in uniform, but he did have his army knife. He plucked it out of the drawer and cupped it in his hand, just in case this was an ambush of some sort.

Then it hit him. This was not _his_ room after all. 

“Shira?”

There was no response. He strode into the bathroom earnestly. The broken mirror, the drops of blood. And the silence, except for the water running. The door of the shower cabinet was not entirely closed, he could see some skin. Her ankles and a part of her calves, leaning against the wall on the other side.

And the trails of crimson dissolving into the drain.

“Shira!”

There was no reply again.

_Why didn’t she answer? Why won’t she…_

He could not breathe, and he keeled to the floor. His hands reached for the cabinet door.  
There was a slew of protest and denial in his thoughts. He didn’t want to open this door… as much as he knew he had to.  
He slid it open.  
She sat flattened against the corner. Blood ran down her palm, in a creek, joining the thicker rivulets down her arm. It collected at her elbow, from where it dripped steadily onto the white roughened tile. Repeatedly, the drop fell and dissolved, wispy dregs in the water that swirled.

Her eyes were open and she was alive.

Relief and rage took hold of him in equal measure, he leashed the latter, calling out her name again.

“Shira…”

The drop of soft light glinted off the shard; it danced across the walls and lent a shimmer to the swirling water below. It peeked into his eyes, they looked silvery in its influence. A very shaky hand clutched the piece of the broken mirror. The tip was pressed against her skin. It sat just below the scar of another cigarette burn that he had given her, forced by circumstance.

Perhaps, now that she finally recognized that he was here, she allowed herself to respond with the softest of whimpers. It sounded like an unfocused afterthought. He watched her, but she seemed to be merely looking at him... From a distance that did not really exist between them.

He held out his hand. Her eyes narrowed and the grip she had on the shard suddenly steadied. She pressed the piece deeper into her skin. Her glare had such intensity, he could almost feel the stab of the glass and the warmth of the fresh crimson tears the wound cried. It was like she wanted him to, like this was a threat. He raised his hands.

_Why would she do this?_

“Shira… Put it down…”

There was a certain revulsion he tasted in the back of his throat. It came hand in hand with that searing pain of concern and helplessness.

“… Please.”  
“No…”

The voice was so quiet and yet, so resolute. It was her voice, but this was not his Shira… It could not be. Her averted eyes fell back to her lacerated arm. He did not want to spook her into doing something stupid. So, he sat there and followed her gaze, with his heart in his throat. It did not stop him from choking out the question.

“Why are you doing this?”

-  
No one ever means to make something about themselves. It just happens. It is all one knows.

“Because…”  
She did not really have an answer.  
But she _had_ wanted something. This started somewhere, with something, with a goal. But somewhere along the way, she forgot what it was. Somewhere in those moments of making precise cuts in her mind and imprecise jagged lines on her arm… She forgot the why.

And now the blood ran too thickly, for her to see the mangled letters and remember.  
Now all she knew was that she didn’t want to mar the scar of that cigarette burn.   
And that the piece now loitered dangerously close to making a line she knows she should not.  
To crossing a line she knows she should not.

She looked at him, the soft glow of his face. The black and white of their existence and the silver and red that was held in between. 

“What’s the point?”

She did not want to die. But, she also did not see the point.

-

Jared was not really a romantic. But he did love, the best he could. Perhaps, what he did next was very wrong. In that desperate moment, he acted with the coldest, logical instinct - one that was more doused in passion than he would ever want to admit.  
He reached for the pocket-knife he had stowed away and flicked it open silently.  
  
The click drew her attention. She was watching now. There was a lethality to the way she regarded him, from behind the curtain of her drenched tresses. 

Jared didn’t seek to make a mockery of this by copying her gash for gash. He had his own point to make… about the pointlessness. And he got straight to it.  
  
He held the knife somewhere above the carved scrawl of her name. He did not wince as he made a small slice of his own. If he made his line, it would strike through her handiwork. Slice through the name he had actually grown accustomed to wearing.

A part of him wanted to. The part that hated this.  
Hated that she could hold her life, over his.  
Hated that he was now holding his over hers.

“There isn’t one.”  
He said. 

Now they sat, staring at the invisible lines that they could make… that they could cross… but did not.  
Till she recanted, after she noticed her name on his arm. Noticed what she would lose. What _they_ would lose.  
“I’m sorry… It’s- It’s not what it looks like… Not exactly.”  
She sounded a little more like his Shira now.

Were there parts of her, he was refusing to see? Were their parts he had refused to make his own? He had refused to give up parts of him to her… Maybe it worked the other way around too…  
  
"We should... Talk"  
"Can we... talk?"  
She suggested and he asked.  
They spoke over one another, ending in sync.  
  
She dropped the shard. He snapped the knife close.


	14. Fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Implied NSFW. Fallout/aftermath of suicidal ideation and self-harm.  
> The contexts and hints in this chapter will make more sense if read alongside/after: Chapter 3 in the 'Canon Drabbles' section.

There was a comfort in staring vacantly at the dark void. There was safety in the way the blanket of nothingness numbed her. It was woven out of rage, but when it was all knotted up, it felt more like the fabric of oblivion.Now that Jared had pulled that illusion off, each wound in her arm ached with a vengeful sharpness. Her flesh was at odds with what her will had compelled her to do.  
_How dare you do this to yourself?  
_ The gashes she inflicted upon herself, were now punishing. Each of them throbbed in unison, burning, and stinging alike. She clenched her fists, the tenseness of the muscles, only drew more blood. She forced herself to relax, but the way the extended fingers hung loosely, made that tremor so much more evident. Akira hissed softly and grimaced.  
_I hate this.  
  
_ Now that it felt _over,_ Jared was just a little shell-shocked. His breaths were shallow, a part of him had still not come to grips with almost losing her. _Again.  
_ _I must be doing something very wrong, fuck.  
_He could still feel his heart thrum against his ribs. He witnessed the way the pain settled into her, and it brought with it concern that softened him.

She plucked herself off the floor of the shower and he quickly reached out to assist.  
_His grip feels safe too, in a very different way…  
_ Akira thought, as her soppy self, stepped out of the cabinet.  
“Should we let Nova look at that…?”  
Jared did not really trust his words. And he was probably right not to. He felt her recoil and pull her arm away sharply. He instinctively raised his hands again.

“I’m sorr-”  
Akira cut him off.  
“No. Oh. Absolutely not… Are you crazy?”  
She shook her head so hard; it made her dizzy. It could also be the sudden realisation that she was… bleeding. Akira did not mean to villainize him for a mere suggestion. His logic was sound, _as usual.  
_ It was bad enough that Jared _knew_. She just could not face up to anyone else seeing her like this. The questions… the… pity that could follow, even the thought of it was viscerally nauseating.

No, she was actually nauseous.  
She swallowed and tried to breathe as she teetered towards the basin. There was still glass on the floor. It vaguely reminded her of dodging pieces in a cell and the hatred that had festered between the two of them that day.  
She held the ceramic again, some part of the mirror still remained attached to the wall. Their shattered reflections glimmered across those pieces.  
“Can you _not_ tell anyone else about this, please?”  
She could not meet his eyes anymore.

“Also…”  
Akira wished she could have warned him before she threw up.  
“… please leave.”  
She requested softly between the retching that drained her spirit.  
  
Jared did not leave. He pulled her hair into something that resembled a very messy pony, it was secured with hair-tie from the shelf. It worked, just to keep them out of her way. He hovered and rubbed her shoulders carefully.

“No… I’m not going anywhere; we’ve been over _this_ before.”  
He could not help but emphasize that _this_ he could handle, _this_ was familiar… From sickness to hangovers. Blood in showers, less so… Not like the way he had seen today.

She groaned, it sounded vaguely like a protest. Her heart was not in it. She did want him around; she just did not want him to deal with any more… ugly?  
_Looks like ugly, feels like cowardice and tastes like bitterness…_ _  
_ She had not eaten enough to really have anything to throw up. But the sensation left her heaving mercilessly. 

He was in two minds about her request, but he did surrender to her wish.  
“It’s okay… You are okay. And we do not have to tell anyone…”  
He referred to them as a unit, a subconscious way of letting her know, that they were still _them,_ together… And convincing himself of it too.  
His promise did bring her some relief, she slowly peeled herself away.  
“I don’t think I’ll need stiches.”  
She still did not look at him. There was a bottle of disinfectant on the shelf. It was just a tad out of her reach, but she tried to make a grab for it.  
-  
  
“Will you believe me if I told you that I was _just_ trying to get rid of Eze’s name?”  
She lay in her bed, head propped up by pillows; he sat by her side. Her bandaged arm lay between them.  
“Do you want me to?”  
His eyes were closed; he rested the back of his head on interlaced fingers. His voice sounded a little resigned and very pained.  
“Yes.”  
  
She replied with a soft huff, she took a quick peek at him and was glad his eyes were closed. She felt… weak. Weaker than before, if that was even possible.   
“Okay. But can you promise...”  
He hoped she would cut him off, eagerly. She did not and when he trailed off, a heavy silence hung between them again. He sighed softly.

“I’m being stupid, right? I don’t even have a reason to feel this way really, right? I don’t know…”  
She continued analysing herself and Jared was single-mindedly hoping for a promise she did not make.  
_Tell me this will not happen again! Why can’t you tell me this will not happen again?  
_-

He screamed for her in his nightmare, in a voice that was as wrathful as it was wounded. But, more than anything, it carried a keen, irreparable sense of fear.  
Akira jolted up and sat with the blankets clutched to her chest. She did not wake him, out of guilt, out of shame and out of a very subdued sense of morbid curiosity.  
_Could he really care that much?_ _  
_ She let him suffer the nightmare wrought out of her transgression… He did not wake. His cry simply tapered to frustrated groans, he clutched at a pillow with a certain desperation, slick with sweat… and remained in the grips of his tormented sleep.

Akira stayed up till he stirred in response to the 0300 hours alarm.

“Hey, Red…”  
“Hmm?”  
They stole a quick glance at one another.  
“I’m sorry.”  
She whispered, before slinking lower into the bed and pulling the blanket overhead.  
-

Akira wore full sleeves for a few days. She did not make the promise, but she sure acted like nothing happened. Oddly, she started doing everything _right._ It was with a stubbornness that screamed the apology she had found the will to utter. She stuck to a rigorous schedule and threw herself into work. Or so it seemed. She was on a mission…   
Even Jared was almost convinced of the lie she wanted him to believe.  
She tackled a couple of her pending tests. Which left Nova ecstatic and gave the crew some more cause for celebrations. The gatherings were handled well this time. With grace, they stole moments of joy.   
Just like Jared promised, no one else knew a thing, it remained their little secret.  
Things felt like they could go back to a normal, a new, better normal.  
-

She would have told him her plan, in full detail… If he had given her a chance.

Akira reached her room for the rendezvous, a little earlier than they had agreed upon. She had bothered to slip into a sleek little black dress and all. She wanted to try her best to make this perfect for many reasons. Most of them were a little selfish.  
  
She swiped her keycard and slid into her room quietly. The lights were turned off, there was a soft glow from the slit underneath the bathroom door. She decided to make her presence known by putting on some music. She danced around her room, trying to make some arrangements for an enjoyable dinner.  
  
He caught her mid twirl and mid song. She caught him coming out of the shower, towel draped.  
She didn’t like that he looked troubled.  
_Naturally... I made sure he can’t really enjoy showers, didn’t I?_ _  
_ He didn’t like that he became the reason for her grin to fade, just a little.  
But when their eyes locked, they couldn’t help but recognize that they made perfect silhouettes for each other in that scattered, illumination.  
A step towards one another, and then two away.  
She shuffled towards the kitchen counter, he side-stepped towards the closet.  
  
It was just a flash, but she did see the way he looked at her. And she knew what that look could mean... From a distance, she appraised him now, similarly angling herself a little to look past the closet door between them.  
A quick peek past that door was enough for him to know too. He shook his head with some relief and smirked. Jared closed his eyes and stilled, trusting the moment with a faith that felt newfound.

Akira kicked off her sandals and skipped to him on padded feet, she just flattened herself against his back, nuzzling his spine as her fingers closed around his chest.  
“Stop… walking on egg-shells around me, like I’m going to break or something...”  
He felt her whisper, against his skin, more than he heard it, he stood up a little straighter. She offered a soft kiss before flattening her cheek against him. They stood like that for a few seconds.  
  
“Really… Not going to break at all, hm?”  
He teased. They could risk dipping their toes into the darkness of their past. She smirked and loosened her grip enough for him to turn within her embrace of her arms. It was true, she had not allowed herself to break, not to his blunted, carefully measured ferity.  
As he turned to face her, she sheepishly tugged the towel off and cock her eyebrow.  
But she had cracked for his kindness… For his concern.  
He was quick to lift her off her feet. With hands and legs wrapped around him, Akira’s laughter tore through the music.  
  
Soon, her back was pressed against a wall.  
They rocked into one another, playfully first, then with an unrecognized urgency.  
Till they were lost to the softest cacophony of private challenges and pleas.  
_Harder… faster…_ _  
_ _More._  
_Fuck, yes._  
-

If only they knew how swiftly things were going to plummet.  
  
She was still wearing her dishevelled dress and the afterglow that could only follow moments shared with a heady abandon. She fell backwards onto the bed with a shameless flop, her legs dangled off the edge. She swung them idly, her heels knocking against the side-board with rhythmic thuds.  
  
“Y’know… All I needed… was to find a purpose.”  
She looked so happy and he wanted more. She looked like she could definitely take more… So, he was not done. Lost in the moment, he contemplated a possibility.  
_Maybe… I could…_   
“Mhmm…”  
Jared responded absently as he tried to steel himself for something he wanted to give her and something he wanted for himself.  
_Something_ I _want to give._  
  
Even the thought felt like jumping a hurdle for the first time. He tucked his hand under her knees and in a fluid movement, she pulled her waist closer to the edge of the bed, he knelt under her.  
“Red!”  
She gasped, her exclamation carried anticipation and anxiety.  
He knelt on the floor, and lifted her dress enough to let his head disappear into the tent of the fabric.  
“No…Go on… What were you saying?”  
  
There was a dare, in the way he asked her to continue. One she couldn't possibly back out of. Perhaps, the night could have ended differently, if she hadn’t used this moment to try to let slip that she had broken the rules he and Nova set.  
“Er… Just that… Like you, T…”  
She tried to sit up, so she didn’t have to stare at the ceiling, so she could _know_ .  
“Don’t move…”  
He almost spoke against her.  
_Another challenge._ _  
_ She lay back down with a huff and tried to continue finding words. _  
_ _  
_ “Nova and… even Zizi...”  
They both winced when she uttered that name. She did, because of the way his breath hitched. This was a particularly bad time, he had left himself vulnerable but entertaining the possibility of pleasing her… The way _had_ to… all those years ago.  
  
Akira imagined this to be mere disappointment and felt compelled to continue.  
“I… We talked, she told me so much. And… Nothing happened, I think I actually helped.”  
All Akira dared to move, was her mouth as she spoke and tried to explain. They both were suspended in the moment, like statues. She continued, acutely aware of his chosen silence. The gentle tightening of his grip against her knees.  
“She’s just… lost so much and yet she’s so strong.”  
Akira had _no_ idea that there could not be a worse time to be seeking validation for her success with Zizi.  
“Did you know she’s actually Ritonix?”  
It became easier to speak now that he was resolutely doing _nothing_ . And once Akira started spilling, there was no speed-break.  
“... And then some Supremacy asshole shot her hand… So she had to run away. And Daya and Kojo, her siblings retaliated or something… and their whole fucking bar was destroyed…”  
  
She didn’t hear his whispers, till he finally said the words loud enough to get her attention. It was coupled with his fingers digging into her flesh slightly painfully.  
“Please… stop.”   
“Ow, Red... What’s happening? What’s wrong?”  
There was a small tremble in his hands, that she felt before he let go of her swiftly.   
  
She hoisted herself up and folded her legs under her. The dress followed Akira’s movements and Jared was revealed. He was still keeling and looking at his hands.  
“It was me. I was the Supremacy asshole that shot her.”  
He spoke with an equanimity that left both of them hollow. This time, he didn’t give her a chance to speak.  
“Are you happy now?”  
He looked up at her with bloodshot eyes.  
She fought the urge to back away from him.  
_Zizi could have led with that._ Akira thought, feeling a little rankled that she was so blindsided.  
“It’s- It’s… You were just…”  
She didn’t usually stammer like this.  
  
He hated himself and she didn’t have anything to say after all, when he finally revealed what it cost to be The Red Knight. And she didn’t even know the worst of it yet. He lowered his gaze again. To the floor this time, his hands fell to his side with a leaden exhaustion.  
“I… I told you not to, for my sake, Shira…”  
Momentarily, his voice softened and almost cracked. Maybe there had been that brief moment that Aki could have stolen the access she had always craved.  
But there was no guarantee she could have handled the truth he didn’t share.  
“I… I’m sor-”  
“Don’t.”  
  
He cut her off as sharply as a slap would’ve felt.  
Her breaths grew shallow. She looked down at him bewildered.   
“Jared, c’mon, that’s not fair, I’m apol-”  
“Just leave,”  
He cut her off again. She really did hate being interrupted. Akira drew a long breath, to try and find the patience that was always on such low supply. She found some and slid off the bed towards him.  
He held up his hands and added,  
“Are you going to, or should I?”  
  
“Fine.”  
She crawled away from there and towards the side that was closest to the door. She may have crossed a line, but it wasn’t intentional… She hated the cruelty in his demands. He had to have known better. Her patience was up in smoke as quickly as he usually went through his cigarettes. She picked up her sandals and strode towards the door. She paused by the door and stood with her hands on her hips, watching him. He didn’t move, he made no attempt to stop her.  
She narrowed her eyes and spat back her own words in anguished retaliation.  
“I _am_ leaving. And I promise you, you will regret this.”


End file.
